Now the baby’s bright May eyes peered up at her intently. “I should think YOU could do all sorts of things. On the second day out he was helped to a steamer-chair on deck; on the third day, his arm across Ruth's shoulder, he walked from his chair to the foremast and back. You must live for me. It was the blood she found that cemented her decision that her foster daughter was a criminal. ” The strain in her face was visible as she tried to remember. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year.
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