The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. It was comforting to have her there, snoring gently. Jonathan caught her in his arms. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. ” The girl on the lounge drew a long sobbing breath. I’m sorry. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. It was easy enough to lie to anyone else. CHAPTER XVII. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. It would send business elsewhere; and the hotel business in Canton was never so prosperous that one could afford to lose a single guest.
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