Wood grasped his companion's arm to attract his attention to this unexpected means of escape. Ruth wore a printed cotton kimono. F. You see, the trouble is that the matter is in dispute. He had been for months without music of the character he loved—and he dared not play any of it! McClintock, after the music began, left the piano and sat in a corner just beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. Her father and her husband, who had both been a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintly flushed. "I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily.
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