” “I understand,” he said, doggedly. The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. Raising him in his arms, Jonathan passed the rope round his body, and in this way the poor boy was drawn up without difficulty. He put his free arm around her and held the censer ready; and as Ruth snuggled her cheek against his sleeve, they were, so far as intent, in each other's arms. What you’re after is too risky.
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