Once she stopped in front of a mirror and looked at herself thoughtfully. Yon must be mine to-night. As to Mrs. As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. She moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with damning insistence. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. "At length, I have my wish," continued Mrs. “Still, of course, it is possible. .
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