“He was alive at four o’clock this afternoon,” she answered, “but the doctors give little hope of his recovery. That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. ” Lucy spat. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly.
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