My feelings overpower me. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. “Well?” “You and all the rest of them are always lamenting that I do not marry. ” “A—what?” Anna asked.
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