I know who hits hardest. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. He must not in any way call their attention to it. “I don’t believe there is one. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. His hug became an embrace. My father died a year ago, by the way. He pressed his lips to her with a much greater force than she had anticipated.
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