Greece was a different place. That boy—blind as a bat! Why, he hadn't seen the Woman until to-night! From the first chord of the Grieg concerto to the finale of the Chopin ballade, Ruth had sat tensely on the edge of her chair. She sat on the edge of the bed —the wardress was too busy with the flood of arrivals that day to discover that she had it down—and her skin was shivering from the contact of these garments. Women never throw themselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance and the damage perfectly. 'He's a good fellow, and 'twill all end well'. I want to tell every one.
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