Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. "Will he live?" asked Ruth. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Ruth Enschede, Hartford, Conn.
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