Figg?" asked Gay. I found him lying like this, the bleeding partly stopped by this scarf, else he had been dead by now. Come along home, Ruth. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. I trust you will not accuse me of discourtesy if I express my pleasure that henceforth our ways will lie apart. Be kind to her. In after years you can return to your own country—to your friends. And imprinting a kiss upon his mother's cold lips, he left the room.
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