Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. . I have been sitting with him ever since. " "Oh, Heaven!" exclaimed Jack. The bars dropped noiselessly and slowly down, till the chain tightened at the staple.
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