" Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson. “Julian, I don’t know how to put this. Brendon. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head. And Gerald— Melusine swallowed on an unaccountable lump in her throat. But, not daring to confess his want of comprehension, he made a profound reverence, and retired. Lucy pinned her hair off her neck and hoped it would make her to look decidedly older. Rain changed to hail, then 154 sleet, then snow.
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