But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it. “I will be off,” she declared. Yet she never once thought of changing it. Such an obvious ruse, but the boys and girls would defend their pride to the bitter end, the facade of study groups during rutting season. He listened. How little he knew about Ruth—the background from which she had sprung! He knew that her father was a missioner, that her mother was dead, that she had been born on this island, and that, at the time of his collapse, she had been on the way to an aunt in the States.
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