She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. McClintock laughed as he gave the letter to Ruth. ’ ‘Now why didn’t I make that connection?’ Gerald asked of the air in a tone of regret. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. .
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