" So Ruth heard about the poets; she became tolerably familiar with the exploits of that engaging ruffian Cellini; she heard of the pathetic deafness of Beethoven; she was thrilled, saddened, exhilarated; and on the evening of the twelfth day she made bold to enter the talk. “It’s THE Society!” said Miss Miniver. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. " She had no reason to doubt him. “Why don’t you wear your white blouse more often? It is the prettiest shirt you own.
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