No, no! Not now!" Ruth turned abruptly and walked toward the bungalow, mounted the veranda steps, and vanished within. ‘So yours is the rattling tongue, is it, young madam?’ ‘I should say so. I've a couple of kinchens in yonder rattler, whom I wish to place under old Sharples's care. How dare you use my name and sing my songs?” Anna looked at her sister in blank amazement. “Thank you—and good-bye. ‘Certainly you must have seen her. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure.
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