In each corner stood a stout square post reaching to the ceiling. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. She had resisted as long as she could; then she had stolen over. “Are you going on again this winter with that scientific work of yours? It’s an instance of heredity, I suppose. ” A spot of colour flared in Anna’s cheek as she glanced towards the speaker. “She has nothing to be afraid of,” he continued. She did not wince.
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