A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. "Ruth, you must not come and sit on the threshold. But whenever the storm grew dangerous, either McClintock or Spurlock broke into saving laughter. They either ran to see or ran for shelter. Fresh flowers of loveliness have budded, expanded, died.
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