He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant. "Yes; he'll suspect nothing. It is positively hateful to think of it. It’s an instinct. Everyone will grumble to you confidentially—Miss Ellicot, she’s our swagger young lady, you know—up there, next to Miss White, she will tell you that it is so out of the world here, so far away from everyone one knows. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. . ‘Tee-ree-sa. There is scarcely one chance in a dozen of saving his life; there would be none at all if he were moved. ‘But how did she meet such a person in a convent?’ ‘He was wounded and came there for sanctuary,’ Gerald explained, adding almost through his teeth. Perhaps there were experiences she would never confide to any man. She came very near that night to resolving that she would return to her home next morning.
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