‘Well! I hadn’t no notion as he’d got hisself married again. Curiosity to see what a sing-song girl was like took possession of Ruth's thoughts. gutenberg. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. You have threatened to kill me for nothing, I know not how many times. The man was mad to marry me. "I love her already.
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