CHAPTER XIV Ruth lost the point entirely. II. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. Wood, was much better furnished with eatables than might have been expected, and boasted a loaf, a knuckle of ham, a meat-pie, and a flask of wine. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment.
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