She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. Mentally but not physically competent. " Ruth spread out the ruffled skirt, sundrily torn and soiled. . . Good riddance. Old London Bridge. Evidently Ah Cum's luck had held good.
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