"I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. The recollection was too painful, and he burst into an agony of tears. She brought her hands up to her head and ripped out two long chunks of her hair, pulling out shreds of scalp. "He is dying?" whispered Ruth. ” He replied solemnly, looking straight into her eyes. Any financial return was inconsiderable against the promise of this psychological treat. She stepped into his arms. No girl with a face like that…. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult.
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