It had, as it were, blown up at the concussion of his first step. ‘Don’t be silly. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. There it was—to be borrowed. Jack was lying so still, for a moment she panicked. Bit priggish, isn’t it? And if he only knew it—so absurd. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family.
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