That is why I am glad that she has gone to London. Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. She chuckled. I ask you, although it is not my place to ask you, to return home. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter.
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