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"You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. "Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. It is a very small affair, after all, and you can pay me back if you will. Lucy’s solos were exquisite in their precision and expression. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious.

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This video was uploaded to on 30-11-2023 19:51:44

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