” “Why did you keep her all of these years? What good can it do?” “She created me, Lucia. "You mistake,—you are mine. Yes—as he would have liked. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. She would never forget the agony of that first meal in the great dining room. Hitherto she had seen it chiefly in pictures and other works of art, incidentally, and as a thing taken out of life. They vanished through the doorway.
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