“Yes?” he said. He looked at her guiltily. His own peculiar genius—a miracle key to the hidden things in men's souls—had given him this immediate and astonishing illumination. Perhaps in two or three weeks. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. She was always initiating petty breaches of discipline. To take Spring and Love out of her life, as if there were no human instincts to tell Ruth what was being denied her! And what must have been the man's thought as he came upon Ruth wearing a gown of her mother's? —a fair picture of the mother in the primrose days? Not a flicker of an eyelash; steel and granite outwardly. Indeed, she did not want to think of him as loving her. It was everyone's favorite meal. A. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. You see, I—I am a woman worshipper.
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