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A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. 2. "Where is it?" "Are you the mother of this child?" inquired the person who had first spoken, addressing Mrs. I am. Ruth's arm trembled and her step faltered, but he was too far away in thought to be observant. “I’m not a good woman. You see me here, an admitted failure in the object to which I have devoted two years of my life. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. "I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill.
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