It would be an ice storm by midnight if it did not let up. He waved a cordial goodbye. It was clear it must be to-morrow. Ray did not pace, he just stood. "And I'll bet a doughnut that boy in his soul is crazy to have it over with. Her father for fifteen years, and you now for the rest of her life! Tell her you're a thief. Gold-handled, too. It was scarcely likely that she would have accepted his aid. So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny.
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