For all the enervating heat, he applied himself vigorously to his tasks. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. "The manager says there is still some doubt. What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. "Enough," said Jack, recovering his composure.
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