"Give me the child, or—" As he spoke the door was thrown open, and Mrs. He sat on the bed, throwing aside his hat. She ought to have written at once and told him exactly what had happened. Boldly he turned the knob of a certain door and entered. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. He shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom. Those awful chairs!" After dinner the spinsters proceeded to inscribe their accustomed quota of postcards, and Ruth was left to herself.
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