She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. Taking this for encouragement, her suitor proceeded still more extravagantly. ‘Possibly,’ he said.
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