‘I can’t think how I’ve tolerated myself all these years. The youth with his hair like Russell cleared his throat and said rather irrelevantly that he knew a man who knew Thomas Bayard Simmons, who had rioted in the Strangers’ Gallery, and then Capes, finding them all distinctly pro-Ann Veronica, if not profeminist, ventured to be perverse, and started a vein of speculation upon the Scotchman’s idea—that there were still hopes of women evolving into something higher. Lad, I admire you even in your folly. ‘You heard Gosse—I mean, the man you know as Valade?’ ‘Clear as day, miss,’ he uttered. Not since she had discovered it had Ruth touched or opened the mission Bible; but to-night (the same upon which the wonderful manuscripts started on their long and circuitous voyage to America) she was inexplicably drawn to it. “I’d give anything,” he remarked, “to see our little Vee happily and comfortably married. "Hold!" interposed Thames, "he can do no more mischief. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. Bu I can speak to that point. "Stay, dear Thames!—stay!" cried the little girl. Wait a second. ’ ‘Grossly unfair, too.
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