It slid off flimsily. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. An ancient smile lay on his lips. Ruth's eyes were wet, but she saw light everywhere: the room was filled with celestial aura. You’d think he wanted to meet the wretch again. Manning loomed up ever and again into her world, full of a futile solicitude, and almost always declaring she was splendid, splendid, and wishing he could talk things out with her.
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