As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. Her aunt leaped unhappily to the thought of penitence. You cannot refuse me this. Not a breath was drawn. Men were going hither and thither with barrows, and ladders and ropes, removing the rubbish, and trying to support the tottering habitations. Mr. Ruth sighed; Spurlock stood up and drew his hand across his forehead as if awakening from a dream. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of marrying you, when he grows old enough. She lived, he noted, very carelessly. “What was that?” she asked sharply.
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