Ruth had not expected to be kissed; so the omission passed unnoted. His shirt also was unbuttoned, and disclosed a neck like that of an ox, and a chest which might have served as a model for a Hercules. He kissed her again. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing. She advanced, stabbing at him. After all, why need one look down.
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