Then she would write and tell her father what she had done, and put their relationship on a new footing. “Hold on, she’s right here. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. Please don’t let any one know that. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. "No such thing," rejoined Thames.
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