Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. ’ His colour deepened. After all, why should I care what strangers think?" Ruth asked with sudden heat. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. It was the end, she told herself, fiercely.
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