“I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. I'm glad of it, I'm sure; for it's all owing to him his poor mother's here. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. She was a swan among geese, trying to look plain and dowdy. “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly. She had thought of the lawyer who conducted the Remenham business, but she knew not where to find him. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. Only one penny—two copies—two pence—thank you, Sir. “I’ll go,” she vowed to the night, “or I’ll die!” She made plans and estimated means and resources.
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