There were mysterious sounds, all of them musical. It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. Lucy snatched it up and put it in her pack. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. "Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her.
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