" "Mr. ” She said. Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out. ” Lucy put her hand to her heart and pulled one of her kinky curls straight. Wood's boat, impelled alike by oar and tide, shot past the mark at which it aimed; and before it could be again brought about, the struggle had terminated. "Keep a sharp look out, Bess.
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