"Time to dress for dinner," said Ruth from behind the curtain. “And aren’t there fees to pay at the Imperial College?” her aunt was saying—a disagreeable question. Probably he taught me what a joke was merely to irritate my father; for suddenly Father stopped my going to the store for things and sent our old Kanaka cook instead. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. “They might do you good,” she remarked.
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