He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not. There were words, then, that ran on indefinitely, with reversals? Here they meant one thing; there, the exact opposite. This lover of yours—” “He doesn’t know!” cried Ann Veronica. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. “Fighting goes with loads of its own baggage, John.
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