On the second day out he was helped to a steamer-chair on deck; on the third day, his arm across Ruth's shoulder, he walked from his chair to the foremast and back. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. The hotel on the Peak had the aspect of a fairy castle.
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