" "En-shad-ay. It’s—Mrs. You have changed from the veriest butterfly to a woman—you wear different clothes, you have the air of another world. \" She looked at Mike. Once more he begged; but as Ruth only repeated her sharp command, he spun about and raced toward the jungle. She sat in deep thought for a moment or two, and then nodding briskly, dipped the pen in the ink again and began to write. The new and the old cancelled out; his daughters became quasi-independent dependents—which is absurd. Playing became a way of escape. The very blank, however, affected him more deeply than if it had been left. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her.
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