"Tush!" exclaimed Sir Rowland, angrily. What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. In Singapore that had been her only dissipation: a dozen pairs of silk stockings. “Idiots!” she said, when she heard this pandemonium, and with particular reference to this young lady with the throaty contralto next door. Gently each time Ruth drew down the arms. I've destroyed my only chance.
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