The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. ’ ‘Oh, a ruin,’ exclaimed Mrs Sindlesham, throwing up a hand. You might even tire of me by then, you know. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. She grew attached to a pair of twins, a boy named Fritz and a girl named Anna, belonging to an auburn-haired Viennese prostitute named Clotilde.
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