It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. I'll be feeling fine in no time. Do not remain with me. Perhaps I deceived you about it. " The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. . “Look at our clothes,” she exclaimed, “and besides, the funny little proprietor has gone down himself to help it along.
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