” John greeted him. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. Inquiring for Mrs. His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face. She is a woman chosen in youth for her beauty and her intelligence. He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant.
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