You are to come home. F. ‘Here we go again. None of this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. Not alone with her, that’s sure. A sacrifice. “They would spoil every chance. But the objects in his range of vision remained unchanged.
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