It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. As though accidentally she swept her skirts from a chair close drawn to her own. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. I’ve had enough of it. One has to train one’s self not to. Do you think that I am utterly selfish?” She raised her eyebrows. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have abandoned my rôle of ingenuèe and altered my whole style of dress. Her voice shook, her eyes were very soft and melting. "Where did I hear that before?" "Perhaps that first day, in the water-clock tower. Gently each time Ruth drew down the arms.
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