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. “Do you hear!” she said “whatever you are, wherever you are! I will not be slave to the thought of any man, slave to the customs of any time. The heroism of two beach combers had saved all on board and their own manhood as well. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. Kneebone and his friends would be glad of a little refreshment.
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