‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. You will sever ties with your own kin?” “Yes. He looked at her guiltily. ’” She played “If I Were a Rich Man,” adding syrupy trills and flourishes at every phrase. ‘What the devil for?’ ‘Messenger,’ Gerald explained. She drew a breath, and sighed it out. "What is it?" "Can't you see? Together, down there; you and I!… As my wife! Both of us, never to be lonely again!… Will you marry me, Ruth?" As many a wiser woman had done, Ruth mistook thrilling eagerness for love. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him.
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