His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. It was the first expression of the mother's blood. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. "Yes, my angel, to her—rest her soul! She extorted it from me, and bound me by a solemn oath to fulfil it. "Miss Enschede was born on an island in the South Seas. ‘What else do you expect? It’s the penalty you pay for marrying an Englishman. ‘Speak, then. Sorry.
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