" Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson. “That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming. " "But I never saw anybody more alive. They crossed the street, and entering the front door passed up the outside stone steps of the flat. Marina doted over her pregnant daughter, adorned in fine brocades, reassuring her that it was certain to be a either a baby boy or a girl of such great beauty she would eclipse them both. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving. You have shown an almost feverish anxiety to eliminate from your personal appearance all that reminded me of you —when we first met.
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