But never mind that. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. For Ruth grew lovelier as the days went on. But now confound it! how can you prevent it? I will kiss you. “You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands.
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