Perhaps she had found this new thing in life, the thing wonderful. Not since she had discovered it had Ruth touched or opened the mission Bible; but to-night (the same upon which the wonderful manuscripts started on their long and circuitous voyage to America) she was inexplicably drawn to it. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. She let her mind run into dreams of that cloud paradise of an altered world in which the Goopes and Minivers, the Fabians and reforming people believed. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. "If that sickly brat lives to be a man," continued Jonathan, rising, "I'll hang him upon the same tree as his father. ‘But you said she was looking for proof. He fell backwards on his butt, the wind knocked out of him. He was asleep when Jonathan entered, and growled at being disturbed. He drew her close up to him with a strong, steady pull. Part 4 MY DEAR VEE, he wrote.
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