"That's for myself," rejoined Mrs. " "All right, Mr. "There is nobody else. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. "By my shoul!" he exclaimed, smacking his lips, "dat ish goot—very goot. Come. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet.
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