"I suppose it didn't drop through the ceiling, did it? Are you quite sure it's flesh and blood?" asked he, playfully pinching its arm till it cried out with pain. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. The ring's yours, and you're mine. . If nothing else had clinched that, the purse had.
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