She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. . "Go to lunch," he ordered Ruth. Such was the hubbub and tumult around him, that the carpenter could not hear its plunge into the flood. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror.
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