In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. But we can’t help noticing. CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. She’s naïve, and yet uncannily shrewd at times, and you daren’t rely on anything she says. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. "I cannot do it.
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