" Ruth spread out the ruffled skirt, sundrily torn and soiled. The lips were straight and pale, the chin aggressive, the nose indomitable. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. "But I'm a blackguard, too, Ruth. That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. Her relationship with John had made her the object of desire for scores of teenage boys who had dared not previously think of her in such a way. She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. To settle things, you know. There's the grand laced coat he wore at his trial, which I intend for my wedding-dress.
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