So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny. This formality irked her: she wanted to play a little, romp. I found him once in my rooms, and I believe that he had a key to my front door. He was also aware that all his arguments would shatter themselves against her resolutions. “I will not rob you of your coffee, most dutiful of sisters!” she exclaimed. A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom— especially the females—leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. He never appears to so little advantage as when speaking of him. You’re neither of you any longer under arrest. Before a month has elapsed, your mother will be mine.
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