" 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. Ah Cum was not a sailor, but he knew his water-front. “A little touchy this evening, aren’t we, Missy?” Michelle chided her friend.
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