Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow. No, don’t let me call myself that. “I’m inclined to think, Stanley, myself that as a matter of fact it was the expurgated Romeo and Juliet did the mischief. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. He turned to Ruth and McClintock. She loves you too well for that. CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free to replace it. No, no! Not now!" Ruth turned abruptly and walked toward the bungalow, mounted the veranda steps, and vanished within.
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