” Annabel rose to her feet. Eventually this comradeship (slightly resented by Rollo) reached a point where he could call out from the study: "Hey, Ruth!—come and tell me what you think of this. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly. "Get up, then," said Jack, freeing his foot from the stirrup. Was he really awake? The arrival and departure of this strange father lacked the essential human touch to make it real.
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