Then, one night, he glanced up to behold Ruth and Rollo in the doorway. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. The truth at once flashed across his mind. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. ‘Ain’t no call for you to go a-blaming of yourself. "What do you mean?" cried Winifred in alarm. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. I shall never go back to him; never, never!" Distressed, embarrassed beyond measure by this unexpected tragic revelation, the doctor puttered about among the bottles on the stand.
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