She then opened Lucy’s meager closet and plucked out a pair of heeled boots usually reserved for weddings and funerals. The race began once more; but this time Ruth knew that there would be no escape. She removed it. "We shall meet again ere long, my son," cried Mrs. Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves.
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