“Ugh!” she said. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. That ring manifestly occupied her thoughts a great deal. " "Excepting your father. Don’t you think that the shade of my hair is lovely?” “There is nothing particular the matter with the shade,” Anna answered, “but it is not nearly so becoming as before you touched it. "What is your name?" "Ruth. I do—with all my heart.
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