1. At this time of day the priest would be at his apartments in Brewer Street, a short walk away from Golden Square which the building overlooked. It got on my nerves—the women I saw. Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. The miserable woman staggered, uttered a deep groan, and fell senseless on the straw.
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