3. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. "Thank Heaven!" she gasped. Ruth obeyed, not willingly, but because there was something hypnotic in the authoritative tone. “Just leave them with me for now, Clotilde. “But, forgive me, you are tired. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. “I’m a big boy, you know.
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