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. ” “Two years ago,” she answered. Michelle burst into laughter, followed by John, who almost spit up his cola. The Becks were the best foster family that she had ever had. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed.
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