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His hand rested heavily and cruelly upon Ruth's shoulder. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently. She was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago. “I’m not a good woman.
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