Her gown was minimalist compared to those concoctions of boning and lace of long ago, she reflected, but that did not stop it from getting caught on 134 brambles and twigs. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. Spurlock snatched the check out of Ruth's hands and ran to the window. To-day is for the sights; the other three days—lessons. Then she moved towards the door.
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