Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. Wood. ’ She put in her request for this requirement immediately on returning to the little parlour downstairs, and instantly fell foul of Captain Roding again. Await me in the coach. . Faugh!” She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between her long slim fingers. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. " CHAPTER XIV.
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