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Ennison’s signet-ring had cut nearly to the bone. ' Why," said Ruth, "you did not read that to us. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. There was so much to see, so much to do, that he became what he had once been normally, a lovable boy. There are way-stations—even terminals. I came here to beg you not to sign that contract. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. But I do not know you at all, in truth, and I do not understand why you do this.
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