‘I feared as much. Enschede, to have starved his heart as well as Ruth's because, having laid a curse, he knew not how to turn aside from it! How easily he might have forgotten the unworthy mother in the love of the child! And this day to hear her voice lifted in a quality of anathema. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes.
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