How little he knew about Ruth—the background from which she had sprung! He knew that her father was a missioner, that her mother was dead, that she had been born on this island, and that, at the time of his collapse, she had been on the way to an aunt in the States. Every now and then she fingered an ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies. My servant. She looked upon it with pity as she drank his diabetic blood and saw that several of his fingers were missing. Maggot, bursting into a loud contemptuous laugh.
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