"My demeanour ought to convince you that I came with no hostile intention. ” “Perhaps you don’t. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. No; I’m going to stick to the rules. ‘Oh, Marthe,’ she groaned, using in her accustomed way the French version of her nurse’s name, ‘that pig is going to monsieur le baron.
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