She laughed nervously, but kept her eyes averted. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. His conscience, however, was entirely another affair. “I don’t think I CAN do that,” she said. “See you. " Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson. The job is easy.
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