It did not matter in the least what name the young fellow was travelling under; all James Boyle O'Higgins wanted was the letter H. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. But all these hours, trying to teach the child wariness toward life, and the moment his back was turned, this! He was, perhaps, still dazed by the inner revelation—his own interest in Ruth.
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