Andrew's church, the bell of which was tolling, was covered with spectators. “Ugh!” she said. How does one get work? She walked along the Strand and across Trafalgar Square, and by the Haymarket to Piccadilly, and so through dignified squares and palatial alleys to Oxford Street; and her mind was divided between a speculative treatment of employment on the one hand, and breezes—zephyr breezes—of the keenest appreciation for London, on the other. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. But that still left the forty pounds!. A cold shiver ran through her frame, and her gentle spirit passed away for ever. Where the devil have you hidden all those weapons? Don’t tell me you’ve got ’em with you. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her.
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