He would never be able to compose upon it, but it would serve to produce the finished work. She seemed bursting with the desire to talk, and watching for her opportunity. On the second day out he was helped to a steamer-chair on deck; on the third day, his arm across Ruth's shoulder, he walked from his chair to the foremast and back. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street.
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