" The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. Now, however, as Gerald watched them, their heads were together and they were murmuring in French. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. Though there is something to be said for your idea of a secret convent, at least as a hiding place. ’ Triumph leapt in Gerald’s chest. Look at it, I say. Wood could stand it no longer. Langley, I appeal to you.
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