“But I am sorry,” she exclaimed. From then on he was Ruth's dog. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. What need had she of Gerald, or anyone? Yet, if he was here, would he not make some foolish game with her and make her laugh? Instead of behaving in this fashion so stupide, and crying, crying, crying. The Times slipped from his fingers. Out of an old family album: here was the very comparison that had eluded him.
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