No one will ever love you as I love you now. She flew up from her stool and faced the door. O'Higgins mounted the stairs, his step extraordinarily light for one so heavy. These passers-by who touch us but lightly and are gone, leaving the eternal imprint! So long as she lived, Ruth would always remember that embrace. Thames," she urged, "the errand, on which you're going, can't be for any good, or you wouldn't be afraid of mentioning it to my father. Let me walk you to the door. He seemed to deliberate. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture.
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