“Forty guineas a week. ‘She wouldn’t tell me. She seemed bursting with the desire to talk, and watching for her opportunity. It seemed incredible that she and her aunt were, indeed, creatures of the same blood, only by a birth or so different beings, and part of that same broad interlacing stream of human life that has invented the fauns and nymphs, Astarte, Aphrodite, Freya, and all the twining beauty of the gods. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. Nicholas had not dared to tell his father about the Valade girl. ‘I did not think so. But you! Ruth is your lawful wife.
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