Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. The eminent painter had handsome, expressive features, an aquiline nose, and a good deal of dignity in his manner. It was after all a momentary affair. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. She's plenty clean below. Meanwhile, the clergyman, bare-headed and in his surplice, advanced to meet them. " "Shall we do so?" whispered Winifred to her father.
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