She was extremely showily dressed, and her large hooped petticoat gave additional effect to her lofty stature. “Mid-thirties. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. There would be no moon. You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. Her father was right: Ruth must never know. You might get faint, but you can fight it. Then he understood. "Hoity-toity! You owe me sixteen thousand dollars.
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