Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. " He did not reply. “I’ve been through all that,” she went on, after a pause. She dissected well, and in a year she found herself chafing at the limitations of the lady B. Ruth, standing by, heard his true laughter for the first time.
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