The note-passer lagged behind with her. In a momentary fury she seized and tore in pieces the study which remained upon the easel. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. “Mr. We’re going in.
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