Ruth was at that stage where the absorption of facts is great, but where the mental digestion is not quite equal to the task. Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect. He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language; laughed in the same manner, and coughed, or sneezed at the same time. Gosse! Dieu du ciel, but how did he get into the convent? She had perforce to obey his command, for speech was impossible. Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. She is English, and apparently in some distress. . She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. A fierce struggle ensued. Cathy gave her a bear hug and patted her severe 252 hairdo. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears.
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