" Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson. “Troubles, my friend,” she exclaimed lightly. ’ To Gerald’s chagrin, Melusine regarded Hilary with approval. ’ ‘Yes, but in fact you’ve offered me far more entertainment than any French spy could have done. "I shall breathe more freely dere. "Saved!" "Ay, ay, it's all bob, my covey! You're safe enough, that's certain!" responded the Minters, baying, yelping, leaping, and howling around him like a pack of hounds when the huntsman is beating cover; "but, where are the lurchers?" "Who?" asked Wood. She hadn't meant to ask anything for herself. And by degrees, perhaps, that maiden distrust of yours that makes you shrink from my kisses, will vanish.
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