Ruth could tell the doctor; she could bare many of her innermost thoughts to that kindly man; but there was an inexplicable reserve before this young man whom she still endued with the melancholy charm of Sydney Carton. 5. At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat. . . You Americans laugh at our custom of honouring our ancestors, our many-times great grandfathers. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun.
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