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I am the cause of his ill-usage. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. “He was no help to the police, just babbled on about how he was going to marry your Mom and how he was in love with her, that they he had lost his true love, Michelle insisted on repeating that to me, ‘He lost his true love. I—well, I borrowed Anna’s name. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders.
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