Winter came at the manor. I have no right to love you. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. The others hurried to the window. They're apt to be surly to strangers, but it soon wears off. You must be lonely here with only a few men friends. It is my business to know most people. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights.
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