Russell burned like a beacon, but Capes illuminated by darting flashes and threw light, even if it was but momentary light, into a hundred corners that Russell left steadfastly in the shade. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. She was watching him intently. " Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson. A post-chaise seen in the road first alarmed us. But for him she might have been alive and happy. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times.
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