"Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. She came back with two women, one in each arm, which she threw down like sticks as she alit onto the stone causeway. . The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. ” “Then why are you sorry that I am going to the ‘Unusual’? I do not understand. Ruth is not another man's wife; she is all your own, for better or for worse. ’ ‘He let them go?’ asked Miss Froxfield incredulously.
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