Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. “Yes. A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters. I beg that you will consider me your friend. “Everything will follow,” she said. " "Well, imagination beats me!" "It's something Ruth saw. " "Do you want me to tell her that I am grateful?" "Well, aren't you?" "I don't know; I really don't know. “Look at our clothes,” she exclaimed, “and besides, the funny little proprietor has gone down himself to help it along. Yes—as he would have liked. "When I am dead you will learn it. ’ ‘Oh, don’t you?’ Gerald said grimly.
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