CHAPTER VI. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. ‘Ah, grandpére. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. ’ She gestured at his hand, on which Roding’s makeshift bandage had been replaced by a more efficient one. She hoped desperately that Mrs.
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