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Mrs. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. On her lapel was an ivory button, bearing the words “Votes for Women. Give this fellow the slip, if you can, Jack. Immediately a feathered hat emerged, under which a familiar countenance was visible. "Heaven help us!" he exclaimed; "we were mad to neglect the old sailor's advice. " Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson. The ambitions of his life, and they were many, seemed to lie far away, broken up dreams in some outside world where the way was rough and the sky always grey. There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket.
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