Michelle's home was one of the smaller palaces, made solidly of red brick with charming black shutters and window boxes full of drooping violets. The tired woman looked quietly at her. He dug about in his mind for a term to fit her, and he came upon the word new. E. Spurlock stared at Ruth across the rim of his bowl. He reached for her and she stroked his head soothingly as his mother had done a few times when he had suffered bad fevers. Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested.
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