And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. " Lady Trafford sighed deeply. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. ‘The fact of it is,’ I said, ‘I’m the new playwright, Thomas More. ‘And you know, my dear, I do think you must make up your mind to beard this wretched grandfather of yours.
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