“I haven’t seen the new Patience, dear,” she said. “Who took care of you after she died?” “My father. It seemed to her that her father was in some inexplicable way meaner-looking than she had supposed, and yet also, as unaccountably, appealing. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. Ruth was something to study for future copy; she was almost unbelievable. ’ ‘So I infer.
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