" "Oh, no!" Ruth protested. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. She would never, never go back. I don’t suppose you could tell me even the derivation of suffrage if I asked you. What had urged her to wrench loose and fly was the guarding instinct of the good woman. Wood hadn't struck me. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband.
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