“Our ways happened to lie together. For all the enervating heat, he applied himself vigorously to his tasks. Do you remember what I said when you took me at the Mint four days ago? I told you my turn would come. Too busy. He was twenty-nine at the time, practically an old man. Coarse as were the ruffian's notions of feminine beauty, he could not be insensible to the surpassing loveliness of the fair creature, who had thus solicited his attention. “Stop this—this humbugging,” he explained. "I believe I'll tear them up. ’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from Gwen. He is coming here to tea. His face will be all I need. Here, put it on your finger. No, no! Not now!" Ruth turned abruptly and walked toward the bungalow, mounted the veranda steps, and vanished within. ” “Two years ago,” she answered.
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