She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. They found a cosy little table in the tea-rooms, and everything was delicious. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms.
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