The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. She thought of how much she wanted to eat the foods she had once feasted on that now smelled as innocuous as spring flowers. Then, presto! What a dreary lot they are when the revellers lay aside the motley! Ruth had come from a far South Sea isle. She cried and sobbed in fits. Piercing through every crevice in the clothes, it, in some cases, tore them from the wearer's limbs, or from his grasp.
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