"These packets will establish Thames Darrell's birth, win him his inheritance, and procure him the hand of Winifred Wood. I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. You truly are your mother’s, Lucia. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. Had she said the words aloud? He pulled her close and she nuzzled her head on his chest.
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