“I was lonely. Curiosity to see what a sing-song girl was like took possession of Ruth's thoughts. He grew even harder. He smothered a laugh. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. Lord bless you marm! we sees plenty on 'em in our purfession. Nor, indeed, did she want to refuse. You forget all the mass of training and tradition and instinct that go to make him a tolerable master. “It was very tiring.
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