How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. ] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. She did not bother with the backpack despite its due tomorrow status. "Now, Sir, I'll trouble you for your coat. Wood—" "That's false!" cried a voice behind him. \"I've got some chores to do and I usually cook dinner on weeknights.
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