The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. He yelled to her, asking her if she wished to have a drink with him, which she refused. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. “You and Anna,” she said, “seem to have stumbled upon a mare’s nest. ‘Ain’t my place, I know that.
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