Ruth wore a printed cotton kimono. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. Anna glanced into her sister’s face, and rose to her feet. And they’ll shut the gates presently. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. Courtlaw found the study in Cariolus’ studio.
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