“I mean to go to that dance!” she blubbered. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. Fresh ground, no chicory, and all the rest of it. One little minute with soap and water, voilà tout. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday.
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