Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. And if sometimes I grow heady—and it's in the blood— remind me of this day when you took me out of hell—a thief. The sing-song girl, seeing Ruth, extended her hands and began to chatter rapidly. ’ ‘Couldn’t help but do so, ma’am,’ said Mrs Ibstock. ” “You would let him—knowing—all that you know?” “Why not? She is my flesh and blood.
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