David Courtlaw. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged. I waited for them to get right out of the grounds. I want you to turn me. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. Of course, at home there would have been questions. Miss Moffatt, the history and moral instruction mistress, was particularly explicit upon this score, and they all agreed in indicating contempt and pity for girls whose minds ran on such matters, and who betrayed it in their conversation or dress or bearing.
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