There could not, he decided, possibly be two girls so much alike. If it is that I am in the least French, and that you do not like it—’ ‘I don’t like it,’ snapped the old man. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. I worshipped her and subdued myself. Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. She had thought to wear it now, since she must look more the demoiselle.
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