Shall we say at half-past seven?” She rose from her chair. “It really seems as if we shall have to put down marigolds altogether next year,” Aunt Molly repeated three times, “and do away with marguerites. There's nothing so sad in this world as an old fool," she added. Ruth did not reply, but stared past the doctor, her eyes misty. The land about these walls is a common graveyard. But not so much a pig as that man. But, after all, it will be different. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap.
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