“Perhaps. She was perplexed by this, and stood for some seconds in the empty street hesitating, until the appearance of another circumspect woman under the street lamp at the corner reassured her. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. ‘Ask him. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. Make haste!" Ruth hurried off to her own room.
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