She, having all the confidence in the world, ripped off an end and drew out the contents—a letter and a check. His eyes were bright with the hunt. The recollection was too painful, and he burst into an agony of tears. Ruth's eyes were wet, but she saw light everywhere: the room was filled with celestial aura. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. ‘Pray you, do me this one little service, and do not ask me why. "Mother!" cried Jack, springing towards her.
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