He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. There was no such a thing as perfection in a mixed world. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. " "Oh, Ruth couldn't put it on paper, to be sure; but there was no reason to hide the source.
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