Unless—would he hide from them as he had hidden from her? It was a big house, he said. Sorry I’m a bit late the first evening. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be. As he pocketed it, her open palm reached out and slapped his cheek. The day was so darkly overcast that she had to turn on the small white porcelain lamp that sat upon the makeup crowded vanity. To take Spring and Love out of her life, as if there were no human instincts to tell Ruth what was being denied her! And what must have been the man's thought as he came upon Ruth wearing a gown of her mother's? —a fair picture of the mother in the primrose days? Not a flicker of an eyelash; steel and granite outwardly.
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