Then, presto! What a dreary lot they are when the revellers lay aside the motley! Ruth had come from a far South Sea isle. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. It plucked shingles from the school building, threatening to shake them all loose one by one like rotting teeth. And you, Austin; and you Langley, I say the same thing to you.
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