The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. " He offered cigars, and Ruth got up. Sir John stood upon the threshold. She put out her hands to avoid his embrace. But heavens, I must pack!” She sprang to her feet and disappeared in the room beyond, from which she emerged a few minutes later with flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. \" He rose and departed. Part 3 For a time they walked in silence through the back streets that lead southward from the College.
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