She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. Wood gave the required promise, though he could not help thinking that if either of them had cause to be jealous he was the party. ‘This journey I do not like,’ she said more loudly. “A bad thing for me when that legacy came. " "How had he offended you?" inquired the widow. “That’s not working so well for you, is it?” She looked at him sheepishly, bringing a Kleenex out of her pocket to wipe away the excess. Ruth, having decided a course for herself—that of renunciation—and having the strength to keep it, met these advances in precisely the mood they were offered. " "At least, I will hope so," returned Winifred. .
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