” She demanded. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. Lee-o-no-ra. “Yeah, I know. ‘Will that be all, ma’am?’ ‘Yes, yes. " He offered cigars, and Ruth got up. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort.
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