To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. The evenings were dulcet and soft. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. "Won't be under an obligation. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. Jackson’s. You are much more like what I was then.
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