She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. . . Ruth was something to study for future copy; she was almost unbelievable. To-night we leave for Marseilles. So he liked to go by a different train. Sometimes I try to talk. He was painfully in earnest, too.
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