Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. God had never answered any of her prayers. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. I’m not a bit afraid of anything—scandal, difficulty, struggle. It’s gone. "To-morrow I will take you to him.
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