Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. Why may I not be your friend? Somehow or other I feel that you have been driven into a false position. . "At length I am my own master," murmured the knight, as his foot touched the strand. . Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door.
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