The air was pungent and leaden. He would be off her case just as soon as his fever for her broke and he found a lover, and she imagined he must have plenty of girls from ritzy families lining up to choose from. "I have some difficulty in preventing myself from becoming your executioner. 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. She helped him take it off. Who could say that the two weren't in collusion? When a chap like Spurlock jumped the traces, cherchez la femme, every time. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. “I murdered them, John. To take Spring and Love out of her life, as if there were no human instincts to tell Ruth what was being denied her! And what must have been the man's thought as he came upon Ruth wearing a gown of her mother's? —a fair picture of the mother in the primrose days? Not a flicker of an eyelash; steel and granite outwardly.
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