” True summer descended like a sticky fever upon August’s arrival, bringing with it miasmas of humidity that seemed to hang from the trees like mucus. ” Her aunt answered in a low voice: “I was engaged to him, dear, for seven years, and then he died. But never mind that," said McClintock grinning as he drew the dish of bread-fruit toward him. "What is your name?" "Ruth. His name was Peter. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child.
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