She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. But you have looked after me very well, and we will not allow this Gérard, who makes me all the time excessively angry, you understand, to make trouble between us. “Well!” she declared good-humouredly. A few short, dark locks, escaping from beneath her head-dress, showed that her hair had been removed, and had only been recently allowed to grow again. The man who came to our rooms, you know, that night was his friend. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. Life is morality—life is adventure.
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