" Spurlock laughed. She tucked her stick under her arm and re-read Manning’s letter. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. "I wonder," said Ruth. That is not reasonable. "He'll not trouble you on the liquor side, Mac. Montague Hill do not interest me in the least. He kissed her ardently.
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