The manager stared at the empty doorway for a space, shrugged, and returned to his ledgers. “Sir John is not at all that sort. She barely heard a word that Martin or Brown said, until Martin’s voice chimed. She then dried her eyes, and laying her child gently upon the floor, knelt down beside him. There was no answer, just grunting, so she repeated the question in Latin, then in Greek, to which Rhea responded. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth.
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