“It can’t make any difference to you, and there are not half a dozen people in Paris who could tell us apart. ‘I have Joan to tell me how much I look like Mary. CHAPTER XIV Ruth lost the point entirely. ” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. ‘Sleeping like a baby, he is.
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