” John took his hand away. "I've won, after all. CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. "I don't think that's likely. The splendid voices sang on from phase to phase of love’s unfolding, the ship drove across the sea to the beating rhythm of the rowers. As to his mother, I've no pity for her. All your faults are just jolly modelling to make you real and solid. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe.
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