For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression—fine. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. As though it was indelicate—it’s just a sort of shyness. I will always think of you with fondness, no matter what. "You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own. ToC As Jack opened the gate, and crossed the little garden, which exhibited in every part the neatness and attention of its owner, he almost trembled at the idea of further disturbing her peace of mind. You went even to our rooms and saw my sister. And also I have this Prudence.
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