CHAPTER XXVI. Springing to his feet in an ecstasy of terror, he stumbled, and had well nigh realized his worst apprehensions. That might happen on her birthday—in August. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. "A little, Sir," replied the executioner, with a grim smile. A doubt as to your dinner to-morrow would make you miserable to-night. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. It was—in connection with this man Hill.
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