I'd have got something nice. It is no good. Ruth stared thoughtfully at the waiting coolies. He thought it best to let the matter drop. An ugly flush stained his cheeks. She had all the fascination of being absolutely perplexing in this respect. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. He threw her on the bed. And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me. The door popped open with a sigh.
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