The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. ” “To bad rubbish. Ann Veronica sat down in the other arm-chair and darned badly for a minute or so. Squire and master. ” He looked at her thoughtfully. “That sounds so uncouth,” she murmured. She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. All right really. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping. And it’s no use thinking he’d stop her. “You won’t give me away, Anna.
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