Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. ‘Do you think I could endure to hear you prattling your abominable French in my ear day by day? Enough to drive me straight into my grave. ’ ‘Eh bien, what then?’ Emile sidled closer. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. “I thought much of it amazingly beautiful.
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