" "Could I credit your wild story, I might do so," returned Thames, with a look of perplexity. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. “I don’t know. They even talked about friendship. " "And partly what else?" "I shall never tell anybody that. What's the idea of the black border?" "My father recently died, sir. " Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson.
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