All the talk in the world would not describe Ruth. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have abandoned my rôle of ingenuèe and altered my whole style of dress. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. Oh, peste, he will ruin all. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. She laughed. In mid-bite, she heard a car door slam that was recognizable. .
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