"He is dying?" whispered Ruth. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. “Just hope that the ground doesn’t shift and unearth them. “Go on!” she commanded. “Well?” she said. We must wash out those stains up stairs, and burn the cloth. "Do better in future.
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