She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. "Lean on me," said Jack. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. It was the bitterest moment of her life. Here we go, thought Gerald. He was beautiful and perfect, his blue eyes smiling at her. You are very lovely, Ruth.
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