\"Sorry. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike. Again, he would ask a few questions, and Ruth would answer them. The vast heap of rubbish on the floor had been so materially increased by the bricks and plaster thrown down in his attack upon the wall of the Red Room, that it was with some difficulty he could find the blanket which was almost buried beneath the pile. She could not make up her mind which was the finer, more elemental thing, which gave its values to the other.
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