The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. CHAPTER XXII. Tears sprang to her eyes. I’m not half smart enough for the West End. What was the old tabby at? Unaccountably embarrassed, he cleared his throat. I tell you this child would have been strangled. " "Poh! poh!" rejoined Ireton; "it was mere idle boasting.
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