The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. Anyhow, she’s disappeared for some reason or other. She was given a glimpse of his soul. He looked down and met them. ‘That was one of my own clever stories. All the best novels have been written by women, and yet see how men sneer at the lady novelist still! There’s only one way to get on for a woman, and that is to please men. "I'm sorry, Mr. Still, his conscience was partly satisfied. " CHAPTER XIV.
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