Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. Father— dead. She gulped for air merely, for it had been difficult to breathe with his hand almost cutting off the supply to her lungs. ” Annabel rose to her feet.
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