For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. ’ Her face fell. He buys his own clothes, chooses his own company, makes his own way of living. Eventually this comradeship (slightly resented by Rollo) reached a point where he could call out from the study: "Hey, Ruth!—come and tell me what you think of this. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible.
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