To make Ruth pay for it! He wanted to get away, into some immense echoless tract where he could give vent to this wild laughter which tore at his vitals. In the little apartment, under the gas chandelier, his inches and his stoop were certainly very effective. “I’ll ruin your suit. “I knew you wouldn’t mind. ” “No,” cried Miss Miniver, almost vehemently. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness.
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