“You yourself have decided that—apart from the question of Annabel. He breathed heavily, as though he had been running. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. “You have killed me. All the village was assembled in the churchyard. Easily I could have killed you. There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it. “I want to lay all my life at your feet. Mr. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. ’ It took several frustrating moments, working at the protrusions of the carving down the side of the bookshelves, tugging at leaves, pushing at flowers.
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