It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. . " "Time will show," replied Jack with equal haughtiness. Her back arched slightly in response. "That's a good story, lad. His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched. Sheppard. . She frowned and gripped her hands about her knees very tightly. Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear.
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