Gerald smiled and crooked his elbow. Anna, in her strange striking way, was radiantly beautiful. It was scarcely likely that she would have accepted his aid. “There is something which I must say to you. Then he sat down again in a chair and said that people who wrote novels ought to be strung up. I’ve seen him, and he doesn’t a bit understand. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. "Lean on me," said Jack. " CHAPTER XIX.
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