The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. But as the mystery which surrounded Ruth fell away that which enveloped her father thickened. He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. The stranger concluded he could not be far from his destination, and a turn in the road showed him the house.
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