"You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own. Here and there, patches of flesh adhered to the bones, and the dank dripping hair hanging about what had once been the face, gave it a ghastly appearance. I'm ready to bear it all. She watched the people and hummed softly to herself. But don't suppose, Madam, that anything I say has reference to you. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly. I—well, I lost my temper.
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