Winifred's face had a thoroughly amiable look. " "No, Sir Rowland. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. There was a maiden aunt who lived in the North who might let her live there for a few weeks until she disappeared. So, after the dinner was over, Spurlock took her home; and worked far into the night. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. Mrs. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation.
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