"Close the court, Mr. Wood having laid hold of the canvass-bag. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. She turned the television off. " "Mad as you are, you're the more sensible of the two, I must say," rejoined Jonathan. There would be no moon. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp.
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