“Looks like old times here, I see. ‘Never fear, my love. “I detest amateurs. "After him," cried Wild; "he mustn't escape. You are wedged in amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you are almost out of sight. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. "What is it?" "Can't you see? Together, down there; you and I!… As my wife! Both of us, never to be lonely again!… Will you marry me, Ruth?" As many a wiser woman had done, Ruth mistook thrilling eagerness for love. ’ ‘Yes, do.
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