“Of course, one lives differently in Paris, but then—Paris is Paris. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. . He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. “No reason. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back.
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