"You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. It is not well that a daughter should talk to her father as Ruth talked to hers that day. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. He resolved to judge for himself. ” “Well!” “He greeted me effusively. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor.
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