They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers. Thank him, not me, man. The class laughed, a few putting their hands to their foreheads in a military salute to mock her. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. She whipped round suddenly, and discovered the woman wedged into the corner by the window, keeping out of the way.
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