"Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. Wood, reproachfully, as they returned to the parlour. Do you know that this becomes a habit?” “If you would only teach us all,” he murmured, “how to acquire it. ‘Don’t tell me. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1. Don’t leave me. She could not help thinking of Capes.
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