"I guess who you mean," rejoined Shotbolt. " "And I'm glad your worship's recognition doesn't come too late," observed the Master. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. . It was obvious that he had waited for her. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold.
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