" So Ruth heard about the poets; she became tolerably familiar with the exploits of that engaging ruffian Cellini; she heard of the pathetic deafness of Beethoven; she was thrilled, saddened, exhilarated; and on the evening of the twelfth day she made bold to enter the talk. He laughed once or twice at himself as he paced backwards and forwards. Will you come sensibly, or shall I carry you? You are mine!" Ruth's peculiar education had not vitiated the primitive senses; they were always on guard; and in a moment such as this they rushed instantly to the surface. I've been hunting for this particular job for a thousand years!" She smiled a little sadly over this fine enthusiasm; for in her wisdom she had a clear perception where it would eventually end—in the veranda chair. "May I ask whether you made any further inquiries into the mysterious affair about which we were speaking just now?" observed Jackson, turning to the carpenter.
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