It was a habit of his to talk to himself. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. From your pocket there. Cautiously stepping outside, he looked up towards the terrace. On the second day out he was helped to a steamer-chair on deck; on the third day, his arm across Ruth's shoulder, he walked from his chair to the foremast and back. There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice.
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