"Not a single whooper-upter! Nothing but torment and remorse … and Ruth! Children, put your arms around me. Let me engage myself. Ennison’s manner was certainly not one of a willing host. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. Playing became a way of escape. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers.
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