. . Ruth drank in these intellectual controversies, storing away facts. Lad, that fuddles me!" "Did you bring me down here to crucify me?" cried Spurlock, in passionate rebellion. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. She lay and nibbled at a sprig of dwarf rhododendron. . You have been burning paper, I see.
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