" Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson. "I've waited supper, you perceive. I will never wed you. She even hit the jackpot in 1952 when she found a photograph in a London issue of Vogue. “I opened my eyes, and she was bending over my bedside. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. "What! you still hesitate! Will that rouse you, coward?" And she gave him a smart rap on the head. The windows which were about nine feet from the floor, had no glass; but were secured by thick iron bars, and an oaken beam. Ruth had lived in a world without caresses. ’ Gerald knew the caress in his voice was a trifle ironic.
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