Besides, it did not fit her well, which was why the loose wimple had slipped. “You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance. "I haven't offended you?"—not contritely but curiously. Those awful chairs!" After dinner the spinsters proceeded to inscribe their accustomed quota of postcards, and Ruth was left to herself. In truth, she had been quite glad to lose the argument about remaining while the bullet was dug out of Jack’s side.
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