It looked very patient, she thought, and a little self-satisfied. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. A buxom piece, who looked, Gerald decided, as if she would be more at home in an amorous engagement in a hayloft than sitting demurely in a ballroom. Wood trembled. I sha’n’t care a rap if we can never marry. And with a hideous expression of pain, he fainted.
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