Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes. A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters. Ruth, standing by, heard his true laughter for the first time. You go home and wait a century, Vee, and then try again. A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. Once more he was the searcher. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that.
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