It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. Enschede, to have starved his heart as well as Ruth's because, having laid a curse, he knew not how to turn aside from it! How easily he might have forgotten the unworthy mother in the love of the child! And this day to hear her voice lifted in a quality of anathema. " "Before I leave this place, I must see my mother.
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