" "What's the meaning of all this?" demanded Sir Cecil. He did not spend more time with her. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. He greeted the corpulent boy at the register, whose tag read, \"MY NAME IS Jason\" with familiarity. Ruth had lived in a world without caresses. He nodded. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. Idleness is the key of beggary, Jack. They were now both in a state of unprecedented physical fitness.
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