Kneebone, what with flirting with Mrs. Shot him, do you hear?” “Good God!” he exclaimed, looking at her curiously. Impressed with this idea, he paused for a moment to listen. He smiled complacently. He put his free arm around her and held the censer ready; and as Ruth snuggled her cheek against his sleeve, they were, so far as intent, in each other's arms. She was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. She could not speak.
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