“She must be warned. ‘You do not like it?’ ‘That is hardly the point. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward. " "I hope you never may, my love," humbly acquiesced the carpenter. I was compelled to run away. “David Courtlaw!” she repeated. Believe me, it will be better by far that you should consent to marry me. Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right.
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