The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. "We have had a sad loss, my dear Winifred," he began,—"for I must use the privilege of an old friend, and address you by that familiar name,—we have had a sad loss in the death of your lamented parent, whose memory I shall for ever revere. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. “I have a letter for him from his brother, which I was just leaving. And ever after it struck him that her backward smile as she disappeared was charged with some special significance. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight.
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