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CHAPTER XVII. It’s Providence. “She has one, that’s why. Tell me how you are earning your living here, Anna—typewriting, or painting, or lady’s companion?” “I think,” Anna said, “that the less you know about me the better. "Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. Wood, contemptuously. ‘God loves you, even if your father didn’t. ” “I realize I can’t see my mom or brother again. Amongst others, a person near the door, roused by the shriek, observed a man make his exit with the utmost precipitation.
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