But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. She responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater. CHAPTER VIII. Ramage. Brendon and I are great chums,” he went on nervously. ” She found herself trying to remember all the old tunes her mother had taught her, as they were bright as little stars. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. “I’ll go,” she vowed to the night, “or I’ll die!” She made plans and estimated means and resources.
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