” He stalked around the room. Ruth came to him directly. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. ” She looked around the apartment again. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. As she approached, the carpenter's wife eyed her from head to foot, in the hope of finding something in her person or apparel to quarrel with. " "He's no such thing!" cried Mrs. F. With his tongue lolling and his flea-bitten stump wagging apologetically, he glanced from face to face to see if there was any forgiveness visible. “Indeed,” she said, “I would not. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy.
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