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Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. CHAPTER XVIII. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. When he reached the happy ending, he waited. He was aware of Hilary, in company with Lucilla and the comtesse’s daughter some few yards away, listening in suddenly. It suited him to dampen the spirits of any who sought to impose upon him, as these relics of the loathed family of Valade seemed like to do. They broke open the entrance into Jonathan's store-room—plundered it of everything valuable—ransacked every closet, drawer, and secret hiding-place, and stripped them of their contents. "Let me look at the paper. Me, I prefer to forget that I have such a father.
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