We’ll have some buttered toast. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. "Well, like or not, I'm greatly pleased with it, and must beg it from you as a memorial——" "Of what?" she interrupted, startled by his change of manner. I asked him—to take me away. Let—it—fall. However, not a moment is to be lost. E. "I can readily see," he said, "why you'll always be as poor as a church mouse.
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