"You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. "Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression. “Where have you been! If Sheila finds out, she’ll kill you!” She summoned a few tears to elicit sympathy from him. I’m very resourceful, you know. I must!” She threw open the door and pointed to it. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. I’m fine.
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