" "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. But it was only when that damned scoundrel nearly spitted you in the chapel—’ He broke off and, to her intense satisfaction she saw he was not as much in command of himself as he would have her believe. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. \"Borrowed a pencil.
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