“Let us go to that little place at the back of the Palace. . " 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. Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. So he decided to stay. Gracious, there’s the gong.
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