"Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind. She’s obsessed with him, you know, totally obsessed. The eyes, too, though large and bright, and shaded by long lashes, seemed to betoken, as hazel eyes generally do in men, a faithless and uncertain disposition. With a faint view of overtaking them the pursuer urged his steed to a quicker pace. Poor little one. ‘Well?’ she said. Ruth, having decided a course for herself—that of renunciation—and having the strength to keep it, met these advances in precisely the mood they were offered. She rested her head upon his shoulder. “Please play something for us,” Carol asked, her eyes aglow.
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