" The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. I'll speak to McClintock to-night and see if he won't take us for a junket on The Tigress. Enschede, to have starved his heart as well as Ruth's because, having laid a curse, he knew not how to turn aside from it! How easily he might have forgotten the unworthy mother in the love of the child! And this day to hear her voice lifted in a quality of anathema. "You'd better surrender quietly, Jack," he cried; "you've no chance. Lucy paced outside of the stone bricked room until her mother began to scream. You know—I worship you. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. She gloried in it: he needed her.
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