She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. "What is your name?" "Ruth. ‘You know pretty much everything you need to know. John’s father brought down a violin from a high closet shelf. They're only just gone, mercy on us! what a clatter," she added, as the knocking was repeated more violently than before. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side.
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