This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. Is it an old ring?” he asked, returning it. Manning, “when I see beautiful things, or else I want to weep. Every movable mirror had been placed here, to discourage vanity, and since no whitewash covered the brocaded purple wallpaper, its pervasive hue gave an added sense of heaviness to the crowded chamber. And the way he and the other men looked at her! The desire was plain on their faces, so many noblemen reduced to their simplest elements! They looked at her sideways, they looked at her backside, scanning her blue eyes and even looking right into her face. Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets.
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