He was alarmed when she returned to the stage and her eyes passed over him in the audience. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. Her husband finally relented.
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