13 with a latchkey went humming lightly up to her room. The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. I'm crazy over music, too.
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