" "That fiend is ever in my path," exclaimed Mrs. ” “But how can I help it? How can I keep silence?” “Please!” she insisted. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. ” He hesitated, and walked away from her toward the house. "It is an ordinary wedding," he added; "some shopkeeper's daughter. These passers-by who touch us but lightly and are gone, leaving the eternal imprint! So long as she lived, Ruth would always remember that embrace. . He could scarcely blame her. She became angry with herself.
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