" 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. Their doors stood open, and placards with big letters indicated the section assigned to each. I sang to him, and he was satisfied. They were on their way back home, or so she had thought.
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