’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour. CHAPTER XIV. But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. "Look at him!" Ruth looked. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. He was in love with her! She tried to grasp all the welter of values in the situation simultaneously, and draw some conclusion from their disorder.
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