‘I believe that. " 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. His natal burr was always in evidence when he was sentimentally affected. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman.
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