"Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. “Hey you,” he said affectionately. ’ ‘But I have told you not,’ she protested. In fine, to marry Ruth (if she would consent) as a punishment for what he had done! To whip his soul so long as he lived, but to let his body go free! To provide for her, to work and dream for her, to be tender and thoughtful and loyal, to shelter and guard her, to become accountable to God for her future. He pressed the long shapely hand warmly in his. "Don't mention it," returned Wood, in the conciliatory tone of one who admits he has been in the wrong; "your explanation is perfectly satisfactory. Her features were meagre, and ghastly white, and had the fixed and horrible stamp of insanity.
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