"Yes; and I hope you'll take ample vengeance upon him," said Quilt. But when Ruth's hand fell gently upon his bony head, he knew that no one in this house would ever offer him a kick. "Good Lord!—cannibals?" "Aye. The real ‘Alcide’,” she wound up with a faint smile across the table at him, “is here. Tucked under the writing-table a pair of yellow and gold Turkish slippers of a highly meretricious quality caught her eye. “A Socialist of the order of John Ruskin. They were so good to me. Honestly, I never did. He leaned forward to embrace her.
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