Enschede, to have starved his heart as well as Ruth's because, having laid a curse, he knew not how to turn aside from it! How easily he might have forgotten the unworthy mother in the love of the child! And this day to hear her voice lifted in a quality of anathema. It was at breakfast on this day that he told Ruth he had sent to Batavia for some dresses. Oriental rugs adorned the sea of shiny hardwood floors, kept polished with an eye for detail that bordered on Japanese. “There I can’t help,” said Capes. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother.
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