But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. "It's a miserable weakness to be afraid of bloodshed. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. There was another phrase which sounded something like 'Gin in a blue-serge coat'. The ruffian's companions took his part. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes. Impressed with this idea, he paused for a moment to listen.
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