I suppose this is what she learns in her infernal London colleges. Balanced on his nose were enormous tortoise-shell spectacles. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. Again, he would ask a few questions, and Ruth would answer them. She sat on the edge of the bed —the wardress was too busy with the flood of arrivals that day to discover that she had it down—and her skin was shivering from the contact of these garments.
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