They are not your flowers. For a long time he remained standing before the fire, staring at the situation. He would have risen again, but for the significance of the action. "What is it?" "Can't you see? Together, down there; you and I!… As my wife! Both of us, never to be lonely again!… Will you marry me, Ruth?" As many a wiser woman had done, Ruth mistook thrilling eagerness for love. I should think, Anna, that your own sense—er—of propriety would enable you to see this.
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