It looked very patient, she thought, and a little self-satisfied. Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. The end of the world seemed at hand. After all, why should I care what strangers think?" Ruth asked with sudden heat. “But the thing is, I want a job.
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