“Oh, you can act!” she cried. ! He’ll come a cropper one of these days, if you ask me. As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles.
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