" Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson. ’ She waved towards a handy table to one side which was piled high with so many volumes, it looked in imminent danger of crashing to the floor. But if that can possibly be done I want it to be done. ’ Jack stepped out, and pushed the door to. For all her begging she had been given the choice to go into the nunnery and “learn how to read scrolls with the rest of God’s Spinsters” by her father, but had quickly lost interest when presented with the idea of bearing babies. He had hired not one but two engineers to record the event, subsidized entirely out of his own meager pocket. What a contrast did the lovely scene she now gazed upon present to the squalid neighbourhood she had recently quitted! On all sides, expanded prospects of country the most exquisite and most varied. . “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. He's an interpretative genius, if there ever was one.
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