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‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. Your history, your actions, nay, your very thoughts are better known to me than to your spiritual adviser. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. The bungalows and stores were built of heavy bamboo and gum-wood; sprawly, one-storied affairs; for the typhoon was no stranger in these waters.
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