You are not with the Kent militia, are you?’ ‘West Kent, yes. It did not seem quite fair. He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple. She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice. But I liked to say it. “My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please.
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