‘Would it so? What sort of a girl is she, then?’ ‘She’s a consummate devil,’ Gerald declared roundly. What marriage really meant (aside from the idea of escape), Ruth had not the least conception, no more than a child. One Friday afternoon, in this pleasant month, it chanced that Mr. ’ ‘Do not make a game with me,’ she interrupted, gripping her underlip firmly between her teeth to stop the threatening laughter. What do you say to Brighton——” Anna looked at him quietly—and he never finished his sentence. The estates must, ere long, revert to Sir Rowland.
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