In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. A note of belligerency had crept into his tone. The music confused and distracted her, and made her struggle against a feeling of intoxication. Wood, who was standing at the edge of a raised platform, anxiously waving his hand to him. "Ruth?" "Hoddy!" she cried.
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