She looked at the suitcase sadly and stashed it underneath her bed. Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book. All four people moved a little nervously into the drawing-room, maintaining a sort of fluttered amiability of sound and movement. They must have a key. And, as he quitted the room, the poor widow fell with her face upon the floor. Surely he was imagining this picture. Mrs. Sheppard now directed her steps. "I wonder," said Ruth.
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