Those awful chairs!" After dinner the spinsters proceeded to inscribe their accustomed quota of postcards, and Ruth was left to herself. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. Their subsequent conversation is outside the scope of our story. “We have come too close together for me to believe it. You're alone, too, child. “You are very stupid, Anna,” she said. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. It’s all right.
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