The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. “Take off your tunic. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. Such was the condition of his mind that the danger exhilarated rather than depressed him. His nose was large but also fine and angular, tapering to a point at the end like a nobleman’s. You may enjoy your pride, your arrogance—in a coffin. ’ He shifted unguardedly, and hissed a breath, wincing. You desert your home; I throw up useful teaching, risk every hope in your career. " "Others may, if you won't," muttered Jack, retiring.
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