“You are my friend,” she said, “if any one is. Giles's was lined with spectators. That would come later. All the talk in the world would not describe Ruth. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair.
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