You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. For a moment she thought of saying yes, and then filled with shame. “It is concerning—our future relations,” Sir John pronounced ponderously. I'd a good many things to say to you, besides—but you've put them all out of my head. That is good. To take Spring and Love out of her life, as if there were no human instincts to tell Ruth what was being denied her! And what must have been the man's thought as he came upon Ruth wearing a gown of her mother's? —a fair picture of the mother in the primrose days? Not a flicker of an eyelash; steel and granite outwardly. It felt wonderful and golden to bask in the sunlight of their approval, even if their approval was fickle and dangerous. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead.
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