” They went on for a time without another word. “I might go home, I don’t know. “No,” said her brother, conclusively, “it’s not for a parent to go on persuading a child. It was a “territory” back then, and many a Frenchman and a Redskin both had been devoured in those caves. ‘That way. Then, one night, he glanced up to behold Ruth and Rollo in the doorway. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. That is not reasonable. There must be real Valjeans, else how could authors write about them? Supposing some day she met one of these astonishing creators, who could make one cry and laugh and forget, who could thrill one with love and anger and tenderness? Most of us have witnessed carnivals. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. In the '80s such a dress would have indicated considerable financial means; under the sun-helmet it was an anachronism; and yet it served only to add a quainter charm to the girl's beauty.
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