The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. “I mean to go to that dance! I meant to reason with you, but you won’t reason. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. \" \"Oh, come on!\" Shari exclaimed, putting her cocoa down and burying her face in a fat white pillow.
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