Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. She was at the end of girlhood and on the eve of a woman’s crowning experience. After dinner Ann Veronica went into the drawing-room with Miss Stanley, and her father went up to his den for his pipe and pensive petrography.
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