She climbed back into the window an hour before sunrise. But all these hours, trying to teach the child wariness toward life, and the moment his back was turned, this! He was, perhaps, still dazed by the inner revelation—his own interest in Ruth. "That was the lad's name," returned the stranger. Those awful chairs!" After dinner the spinsters proceeded to inscribe their accustomed quota of postcards, and Ruth was left to herself. Disillusion stands in one doorway of our house and Mockery in the other.
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