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She shut the door behind her. She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. "And, oh! forgive me, though I can never forgive myself, for the misery I have caused you. She was slowed down by the icy wind that punctuated itself in screams around houses and trees. Sheppard's dress—extremely neat and clean, but simply fashioned, and of the plainest and most unpretending material,—offered nothing assailable; and her demeanour was so humble, and her looks so modest, that—if she had been ill-looking—she might, possibly, have escaped the shafts of malice preparing to be levelled against her. " At luncheon, preoccupied in thought, Spurlock did not notice the pallor on Ruth's cheeks or the hunted look in her eyes.
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