“Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. With a strong tendency to satire, but without a particle of malice or ill-nature in its display. " The Wastrel tried to reach Ruth's lips. " "Unpossible, master," rejoined Ben; "the tide's running down like a mill-sluice, and the wind's right in our teeth. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster.
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