That would be myself, or if she lived, Mary’s daughter. She heard their feet and muffled voices. It is not well that a daughter should talk to her father as Ruth talked to hers that day. Would you tell her … now?" his eyes flaming with mockery. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. Why don’t you wait and see if you do truly love me, then I can believe you? Then I know I am worth waiting for. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone.
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