Once he had managed to stake his claim, she would have all to do to prove her identity and win it back. "O, lud!" she cried; "French noblemen in disguise! and so rude as I was! I shall never recover it!" "A good supper will set all to rights," insinuated Kneebone. ‘Tchah! So you’re the whelp’s girl, are you? Suppose you’ve nothing but that villainous French in your tongue. At least, he would always be able to take care of Ruth. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. I'll think no more about her. She forced herself not to think of John. ” He said. ” “Well, you can’t say you’re a failure there,” Lady Lescelles remarked, smiling.
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