"Hell's curses!" muttered Jonathan between his teeth; "that fool will ruin all. It will do its best to overlook things—” “If we let it, poor dear. Maggot, bursting into a loud contemptuous laugh. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl. " Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson.
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