She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery. His eyes flashed as he turned towards her. It fell with a clatter to the floor. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought. From the beginning. At last in a street near the Hampstead Road she hit upon a room that had an exceptional quality of space and order, and a tall woman with a kindly face to show it.
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