“Julian, I don’t know how to put this. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. The comments on the makeover lessened but were replaced by long admiring glances by boys who had never before given her the time of day. “Take me back. "Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you. " The shock of hearing this title pronounced was equally distributed between Ruth and her husband; but it aroused two absolutely different emotions. "Here's a cross-bite.
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