" At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. She had begun alone. “Much better. I think you’re wrong. If my Mom found out, she’d kill me. Did you grow up at the Valade estates? You were born a Valade, I take it, even though your father is English. He rolled onto his belly, freeing himself from her hands, pushing her away. I never yet heard of a Christians as was named after the Shannon or the Liffy; and the Thames is no better than a dhurty puddle, compared wi' them two noble strames. Presently you will see that I am right, and then you shall take your vacation over here, and we will be good comrades again. " 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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