On the second day out he was helped to a steamer-chair on deck; on the third day, his arm across Ruth's shoulder, he walked from his chair to the foremast and back. Taking up a link, which was blazing beside him, he walked across the room; and touching a spring in the wall, a secret door flew open. “And I’m not happy. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. . Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. There's something queer about that young man; but we'll never be able to find out what it is.
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