It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. “Then I suppose when I have graduated I am to come home?” “It seems the natural course—” “And do nothing?” “There are plenty of things a girl can find to do at home. He was looking pale and ill.
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