To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought. “You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads. Oriental rugs adorned the sea of shiny hardwood floors, kept polished with an eye for detail that bordered on Japanese. “I admired your sister in Paris,” he answered, “but I do not believe that I regard her now as altogether the same person.
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