None of this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing. ‘It is in truth you?’ ‘Of course it is I. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. I want him immediately, so you can send Frith with my phaeton if you like. Mrs. Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. Diable.
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