I wonder if she has any idea how oddly beautiful she is?" Ruth at that precise moment was engaged by a relative wonder. One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father. ‘So Leonardo has taught me. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. ’ A peal of delighted laughter greeted this threat. At last some anodyne formed itself from these exercises, and, with eyelashes wet with such feeble tears as only three-o’clock-in-the-morning pathos can distil, she fell asleep. Only an undermaid I was then.
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