Wood had been my father, as well as yours. And then as we went down you’d try to explain. " He passed it over; and Ruth read: To be opened in case of my death and the letter inside forwarded to the address thereon. ‘Here she is. “I wish he had,” she said. Sometimes it seemed that she would never recover it. Why should she? she asked rebelliously. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point.
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