Then the storm broke. “You are late,” she murmured. I don’t care. Cathy answered the phone. Inside was the blue stone she had lost in the 1800’s. She taught me how to crochet and cross stitch. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. Plain, wide-mouthed, freckled, and ugly, she was an instantly jealous creature, her saving grace that she took no pains to mask her extreme dislike 47 of petite, pretty girls.
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