The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. “She is marvellously clever,” he said. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny. ” The man hesitated.
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