He blushed furiously; it was not what he had expected to hear. Before her stretched blank spaces, dotted with running people coming toward her, and below them railings and a statue. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. ‘Because I love you. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth.
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