***** Ruth and the doctor returned to the hotel at four. “Eight, Cavendish Square. Not once during the ceremony did the two look at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken. The calvacade was now put slowly in motion. Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. “I am glad,” she told herself, “I came. “You must not. Here one might live the life of golden days. ‘When you say it like this, certainly it appears absurd. Evidently he was gazing at the dull red roofs of the city: but was he registering what he saw? Never glance sideways at man, the old Kanaka woman had said.
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