Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it.
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