“It was,” she admitted. I’m damaged goods. He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind. They had much to talk about, or rather Miss Prudence had. Besides, I acted for others, and not for myself. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. Her aunt arrived about halfpast ten, in black and with an unusually thick spotted veil.
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