‘Jacques?’ ‘No. They are their mother’s sons. He was scarcely concealed when he heard the horsemen, who perceived they had overshot their mark, ride back. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. One day she had thrown all the gifts into the lagoon, and visited the secret nook no more. And nearly all these things were fearfully ill-paid. Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative. It was the beginning of June.
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