. Then for a time she sat very still. It was then, I am sure, empty. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. He had nothing more to say either to her or to Spurlock. She addressed Anna with a beaming smile and a very creditable mixture of condescension and officiousness. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. A familiar figure was making his way towards them.
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