She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so. ” She changed the subject abruptly. Ruth shivered; she was cold. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. “She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away. His tie had demanded a struggle; he ought to have taken a clean one after his first failure. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy.
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