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She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. “Was he really?” She asked, waiting on baited breath. You will be with me. They do a good job, huh?” He smiled at her. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky.
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