"Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. He had said so. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. I guess those books are okay because they are fiction. To settle things, you know. You know that. She threw him his car keys. Any natural fineness would be numbed by drink. Only first you must find the lantern and light it again and leave it here, near the door, for me to find.
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