He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. She ran away from you; and now I can easily understand why. “I do not lay claim,” he continued, “to any remarkable amount of insight, but it is possible, is it not, that I have stumbled upon your present cause of distress. He might miss at this distance. ‘Seen her again, have you? Well, if she’s been giving you as much saucy impudence as I’ve had to contend with, I can only say I’m glad of it. So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. These passers-by who touch us but lightly and are gone, leaving the eternal imprint! So long as she lived, Ruth would always remember that embrace. " There was a pause.
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