"What's that?" asked Wild. " "There isn't an angel in heaven, Ruth, purer or sweeter than you are. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. It would be useless to tell her to go back, even heartless; and yet he could not advise her to go on, blindly, not knowing whether her aunt was dead or alive. ‘Ah, non,’ exclaimed the husband. “Which one?” “The one whose life you have been making a burden, who has been all the time shielding her sister. ” “I like the mystical way better,” said Ann Veronica, and thought.
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