He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. He must have been following her from room to room, silent in his stockinged feet. He next twisted the heavy gyves round and round, and partly by main strength, partly by a dexterous and well-applied jerk, sapped asunder the central link by which they were attached to the padlock. There are no funerals among the poor, only burials. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence.
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