From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. Nothing seemed to be amiss. "Where?" she cried. She was marvellously pretty, but he was not quite sure—yet—that it was advisable for him to sit with her in so public a place.
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