She hit the villain with it. One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father. Somehow to-night—I don’t know. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. “By God! Ann Veronica,” he said, sighing deeply. Ruth obeyed, not willingly, but because there was something hypnotic in the authoritative tone.
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