For Ruth grew lovelier as the days went on. He renewed his supplications to Sharples, but with no better success than heretofore; and the greater part of the night was passed by him and the poor widow, whose anxiety, if possible, exceeded his own, in the most miserable state imaginable. The light disappeared. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened. “I am. To his relief, Mrs Sindlesham stepped into the breach, grasping her cane and rising painfully from her chair. ” “A—what?” Anna asked.
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