It was not the arrival of the guests, but merely the maid moving about in the hall. ‘Never mind where. Hetty, looking out of the window—she always smoked her after-breakfast cigarette at the window for the benefit of the less advanced section of Morningside Park society—and trying not to raise objections, saw Miss Stanley going down toward the shops. Again, he would ask a few questions, and Ruth would answer them. “Yes, I believe he is. We all did that in our youth, when first we came upon a fine story; else we were worthless metal indeed. Then a third secretarial opening occurred and renewed her hopes again: a position as amanuensis—with which some of the lighter duties of a nurse were combined— to an infirm gentleman of means living at Twickenham, and engaged upon a great literary research to prove that the “Faery Queen” was really a treatise upon molecular chemistry written in a peculiar and picturesquely handled cipher. I might have told you the truth. It would be the wrappered world almost at its best. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. "Where is he?" asked she, in an agitated whisper. It was on the night of the Great Storm that I found him. ‘Now see here, missie. In a voice husky with suppressed despair, she answered.
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