Wood, I forget nothing. I go back about once a year. \" She fibbed. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders. Greece was a different place. The race began once more; but this time Ruth knew that there would be no escape.
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