His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. He can't play cards, either, when he's sober. CHAPTER XXII. You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor.
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