” He looked at her with white, set face. But Ruth was his woman, and he had sworn to God to defend her. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. ” Then it was her father issued his ultimatum. If you’ve got anything to say, you must say it to your aunt—” “But look here, daddy!” He flapped the Times at her with an imperious gesture.
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