"Oh, easily enough," rejoined the other. " "It wasn't the fumes of whisky that toppled him out of his chair. Gerald looked at it, then at her face. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. ‘Long enough for you to see Frith for me. I have gone without dinner for three nights, and—come in. " Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson.
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