Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. The moment he was out in the hall, Ruth sat up hugging and rocking her body in delight. Mr. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. E. Once more breaking through the hedge he took to the fields.
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