Vorsack echoed him. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly. "Ay, indeed! And who may that be?" inquired his wife. His hair was thick and brown and his skin was fair. What was his problem, she thought to herself. Annabel is my only sister, you know, almost my only relative. Ruth did not reply, but stared past the doctor, her eyes misty. He paid the cab, and turned to follow her.
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