THAMES DARRELL. She handled it half fearfully, and set it carefully down again. You are right. Enschede, to have starved his heart as well as Ruth's because, having laid a curse, he knew not how to turn aside from it! How easily he might have forgotten the unworthy mother in the love of the child! And this day to hear her voice lifted in a quality of anathema. “It is hateful—diabolical!” he exclaimed. ‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. “He fancied that he did,” she corrected him coolly.
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