‘He prayeth best who loveth best—all things both great and small. Ruth's arm trembled and her step faltered, but he was too far away in thought to be observant. About the Abbey and Abingdon Street stood the outer pickets and detachments of the police, their attention all directed westward to where the women in Caxton Hall, Westminster, hummed like an angry hive. She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. "Why you pretended not to recognize the photograph of the young fellow you toted around these diggings all day yesterday. But that is men all over. Monsieur Charvill, he has not the means to choose different.
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