Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. I mean I’m not a good specimen of a woman. ] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. Neither father, aunt, nor brothers made a sign, and then one afternoon in early February her aunt came up in a state between expostulation and dignified resentment, but obviously very anxious for Ann Veronica’s welfare. ‘That is better, no?’ ‘Dieu. .
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