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She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. . “I’m inclined to think, Stanley, myself that as a matter of fact it was the expurgated Romeo and Juliet did the mischief. It seems to me very silly. ’ Abruptly, the niggling doubt that had been plaguing Lord Charvill came sweeping to the surface. A long chest under one of the windows was open, some of its contents dragged out and spilling onto the floor. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. Open it.
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