And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. It had ever been her policy, much to Melusine’s relief, for she was apt to complain that it only made her mad and there was nothing she could do about it. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink.
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