” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened. “Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. . To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. Her pa was only the smithy.
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