Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. Greece was a different place. Ruth loved him.
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