For Mr Jarvis was beside himself when the letter come from Mr Charvill and he knew he’d lost you as well as Miss Mary. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. She's fine. "May come!—it will come!—it shall come!" cried the carpenter, shaking his hand menacingly at him. He sat up in his chair again, the colour came back to his cheeks. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child.
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