‘That little kiss cost him his sanctuary, my girl, and don’t you forget it. ‘I don’t want a hue and cry after me, I thank you. The latch came with a weak click. There you are! Girl spoilt for life. " A deep indignant groan followed. Along the inner side was a wonderfully arranged series of displayed specimens that Russell himself had prepared. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain.
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