"A bad girl?" She put the question as she would have put any question—leveleyed and level-toned. Capes scored back with an uncompromising vigor that was his way of complimenting her intelligence. It was, in his opinion, the most astonishing letter he had ever read. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. There would be no moon. In this hour its colossal selfishness never occurred to him. It cuts.
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