" He did not pause to consider how she had learned that he had imagination; he comprehended only the direct challenge. “You are coming my way,” Courtlaw answered. This person, whose age might be about forty, was attired in a brown double-breasted frieze coat, with very wide skirts, and a very narrow collar; a light drugget waistcoat, with pockets reaching to the knees; black plush breeches; grey worsted hose; and shoes with round toes, wooden heels, and high quarters, fastened by small silver buckles. “Go from me, husband!” With a flourish he brought her arms behind her and her body was slammed to the floor. He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant.
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