He might call her wife, but she refused to give him his wedding night. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. "Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. You have nothing more to fear from Wild.
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