You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. “It was a plot amongst them all to humiliate her. Rubbishy novels and pernicious rascals. But when Ruth's hand fell gently upon his bony head, he knew that no one in this house would ever offer him a kick. But she found an unknown lady’s discarded garments, and selected some of those that she tried on, sending Kimble off down the secret passage to load them onto the horse she had borrowed—unbeknownst to its owner—from Father Saint-Simon.
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