‘It is the life I know. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. “It’s no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe when one doesn’t. She remembered possessing it during the Gold Rush. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul.
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