“Thank you. ” Lucy implored. "So that was it? And what the devil are you doing here, moping alone on the beach? Why aren't you with her in this hour of bitterness?" "What can I do?" "You can go to her and take her in your arms. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. Get on with it, then. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. ‘Sapristi,’ he gasped. She almost submitted to this ending of her adventure. He would have to go on; he would be forced to enact all the obligations he had imposed upon himself. ’ His colour deepened.
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