" Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. "Look at him!" Ruth looked. “Here, dis is for you. The second look told me I was wrong. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. “Until a girl can go away as a son does and earn her independent income, she’s still on a string. ‘I do not know if even I can do anything now. .
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