She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. "Very well, Mr. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. “I haven’t seen the new Patience, dear,” she said. ‘But we—mon mari and myself—we have the bonne chance. She would have just to keep the fifteen pounds until she could make it twenty. "Are you a human being, to leave her thus?" "It is better so. ‘Come on.
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