’ With pretty imperiousness, she gestured to the bed beside her. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. Afterwards she hunted up the article in question, and it seemed to her quite delightfully written and argued. She answered weakly, “I’m fine, John. ” Anna was thoughtful. I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. But now it’s beads by the cask—like the hold of a West African trader. Her aunt was a long time before she answered. She reads novels—and history—and all sorts of things. gutenberg.
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