Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. Once in the room, the door locked, the sense of loneliness had dropped away from her as the mists used to drop away from the mountain in the morning. This was irregular. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. He was suddenly calm.
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