Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. ” She rolled over on her face, and stuffed her fingers in her ears to shut out the rhythm from her mind. Something tells me I am rushing on greater danger.
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