She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. She came back with two women, one in each arm, which she threw down like sticks as she alit onto the stone causeway. ‘I just don’t understand you, Gerald. On the second day out he was helped to a steamer-chair on deck; on the third day, his arm across Ruth's shoulder, he walked from his chair to the foremast and back. .
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