” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. I think he got sick of us and he disappeared not one week later. How plainly he could see the patch of garden in the summer sunshine and the white hollyhocks nodding above the picket fence! ***** Ruth sat waiting for the half hour, subconsciously.
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