The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. “Ann Veronica,” he said. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter. “That cannot happen!” She replied, feeling her world start to disintegrate underneath her feet. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. ‘Martha was my wet-nurse? But she is unmarried. ” She took the pocket-book and looked up at him with a little impulsive movement. . She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. " The woollen-draper made no answer, but hastily starting up, bolted the door. . She got out of bed, her eyes still half-closed, and stood slack jawed. A common rage flushed their faces.
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