He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not. Put on that new dress—the one that's all white. She had often wondered if Hoddy would ever go back to it. Men do not understand constancy as women do. For a pity, she has chosen to remain, and it has been her death. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. ‘How dull it must have been for you, poor little one. And at last Ann Veronica and Miss Miniver came down the dark staircase and out into the foggy spaces of the London squares, and crossed Russell Square, Woburn Square, Gordon Square, making an oblique route to Ann Veronica’s lodging. A deep roar followed this order, and several missiles were launched at the vehicle, which was driven off at a furious pace. Once she stopped in front of a mirror and looked at herself thoughtfully. His literary instincts were reviving.
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