Wild, and his uncle, Sir Rowland Trenchard. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. For Ruth grew lovelier as the days went on. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. Still, my tutor was a highly educated scholar—my father. She got hysterical.
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