"I'll be their substitute. God, Lucy, that’s the stuff people wear to Phys. It would be protective; it would with age turn to silver unnoticeably. He's on the ragged edge. " "I don't know," said the doctor, dubiously. " "And all the time you loved her?"—appalled. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely.
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