"Hoddy, Hoddy!… No, no! This is my father!" warned Ruth. The ambitions of his life, and they were many, seemed to lie far away, broken up dreams in some outside world where the way was rough and the sky always grey. With this air in our blood, this sunlight soaking us. And also she didn’t like them. Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living.
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