” “Young? I am twenty-four. " So Ruth heard about the poets; she became tolerably familiar with the exploits of that engaging ruffian Cellini; she heard of the pathetic deafness of Beethoven; she was thrilled, saddened, exhilarated; and on the evening of the twelfth day she made bold to enter the talk. But when she spoke her lips quivered, and they came. “Anna!” he exclaimed hoarsely. To-night she could have hugged both the old maids. Melusine shrugged.
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