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Her steps slowed. " Ruth walked to the companion. Never had her father explained. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. And, without another word, he seized the table with both hands, and upset it; scattering plates, dishes, bottles, jugs, and glasses far and wide. "But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours. . “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture.
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