Her eyes where glassy and shining. Such ambitions as he had were stereotyped and material. “Next door,” said a spectacled young person of seventeen or eighteen, with an impatient indication of the direction. “Come this way,” he said. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. \" He said with a question in his voice, a question that revealed that he was intimidated, and not only that, but he had it bad.
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