So, step by step, and hurt by hurt, Ruth was learning that John Smith was John Smith and nobody else. ‘Like you?’ ‘But I am not French. “I do not suppose he will be home till late. It is impossible. ” She marked an hotel that seemed neither opulent nor odd in a little side street opening on the Embankment, made up her mind with an effort, and, returning by Hungerford Bridge to Waterloo, took a cab to this chosen refuge with her two pieces of luggage.
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