“Where?” “To that ball. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. As a consequence of its small size, it was possible to get along with the work on a much easier and more colloquial footing than a larger class would have permitted. . Agreeably he helped her take the shirt off.
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