I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. " There was another pause. He seemed to have expected them. "Hands off!" she exclaimed, "or you'll repent it. The Supper at Mr. She was finally dead, going to Hell. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. Make haste!" Ruth hurried off to her own room.
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