" "Mr. Sheppard, in a voice of agony. “I wish you didn’t. Everyone will grumble to you confidentially—Miss Ellicot, she’s our swagger young lady, you know—up there, next to Miss White, she will tell you that it is so out of the world here, so far away from everyone one knows. Even after this woman had gone, it seemed to Ruth that the room was kindlier than it had ever been. Without Jack, it was certain that she faced danger if she went outside Golden Square. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. When he returned, it was always the same.
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