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“That doesn’t touch the question I asked you,” she said. . . Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill. An enormous Hand that rose up swiftly, blotting out the sky. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. The resemblance was amazing! And some man—he was good-looking—was in the background.
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