To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. . Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. ’ ‘Militia, miss,’ Kimble corrected her. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. Heaven knows why! They don’t marry most of us off now until high up in the twenties.
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