“Don’t befool me any more,” he answered, almost roughly. “Didn’t you just get over an ear infection not two weeks ago? You’re asking for another one. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. He stabbed a kitchen knife between her ribs. Miss Moffatt, the history and moral instruction mistress, was particularly explicit upon this score, and they all agreed in indicating contempt and pity for girls whose minds ran on such matters, and who betrayed it in their conversation or dress or bearing. He walked unsteadily towards the door. I was—I was a corespondent. His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTM2LjI3LjUwIC0gMTEtMDYtMjAyNCAxOToyODo0NCAtIDY2MjQ4NTM0Ng==
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