Ruth broke the exquisite pose by summoning Ah Cum, who was lured into a lecture upon the water-clock. “He fancied that he did,” she corrected him coolly. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. The door closed softly upon her.
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