He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure. He wanted to know what the joke against him was—if any. ’ She focused on Gerald’s face. " "You don't say so!" exclaimed Shotbolt. " "I shouldn't call her queer. It needs cultivating, I think. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account.
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