” “I can’t seem to get out of chairs without flashing my brassiere to the whole of Creation. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. A moment afterwards, the door was closed and bolted, and the carpenter found himself alone. The black clad students streamed slowly to their positions carrying their instruments like offerings to the pilgrimage.
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