There is a button loose on that coat under your pillow. Bullding,” she declared. To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. “Suppose, for example, I go to this dance?” “You won’t.
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