Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts. The touch of her hands was pleasurable. A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears. Armed, however, with the implement he had so fortunately obtained, he did not despair of success. White said slowly, “it depends a good deal upon what rooms you have. " "It is strange," replied Winifred, artlessly. Annabel, come to the door with me,” she added a little abruptly. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron.
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