. Ruth was not a woman; she was a phenomenon. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. Perhaps she had found this new thing in life, the thing wonderful.
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