" "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. I should have gotten out of here months ago!” She opened the passenger side and reclined in the bucket seat. Catch him, she begged silently. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident. . And now she comprehended that the man (she had never known him by any name) knew she had surprised the look and had not resented it. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. ” “Wherever you like!” he answered, a little absently. How much Mary knew is a mystery. A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY.
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