Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. By the time John returned with popcorn and a large Coke, the theater had filled up with high-school kids.
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