“Pretend,” he said, “that all I have said hasn’t been said. “So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently. The hotel on the Peak had the aspect of a fairy castle. I know nothing about the girl, save what you have told me. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a friendly American bar-keep to talk to. A swift frown brought the still dark brows together for a moment.
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