Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. Strewn across the bed was a multitude of jumbled garments. "Do not—do not!" "He must!" thundered Jonathan, "or he goes to jail. The will to live had returned. The cold air gave her gooseflesh under her red brocade dress as she slipped outside. “Go on,” he said. I felt his heart. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him.
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