So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. How plainly he could see the patch of garden in the summer sunshine and the white hollyhocks nodding above the picket fence! ***** Ruth sat waiting for the half hour, subconsciously. “I’m a big boy, you know. Sheppard, meekly. She’ll have to wait for dinner,” he said, uncomfortably.
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