The man looked closely at Anna as she crossed the footway, and as he held her skirt from the wheel he pressed something into her hand. I’d take it— forgive me if I seem a little urgent—as a sort of proof of friendliness. Norris, wringing her hands and wepping, the unfortunate lady was placed upon a couch. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth.
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