She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. Creeping stealthily up stairs, unmasking a dark lantern, and glancing into each room as he passed, he was startled in one of them by the appearance of Mrs. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. I’ll have to think of something else. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth.
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