After all, why should I care what strangers think?" Ruth asked with sudden heat. What other reason could there be? It’s more complex, but it’s better. He raised her to a sitting position. Under another name,—not my own hateful one,—I will strive to distinguish myself in some foreign service, and win myself a reputation, or perish honourably. The music confused and distracted her, and made her struggle against a feeling of intoxication. "I can't tell you!" she replied, blushing deeply, and clinching her little hand as tightly as possible; "it's a secret!" "I'll soon find it out, then," he returned, playfully forcing the paper from her grasp. Ruth crossed over to the dramatist of this tragicomedy and put a hand on his shoulder. She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain.
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