‘Come, mademoiselle. Ruth is not another man's wife; she is all your own, for better or for worse. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. He seemed to do ten things before she could think to do one, to leap upon her and take possession. And where was that devil? Had the soldiers found him? She could not think he had escaped, for she had only just made it into the passage as they entered the library. ” He fancied that she was yielding, but her eyes fell once more upon that fatal envelope, and her tone when she spoke was colder than ever. ‘But my poor Jacques is wounded and—’ ‘All taken care of,’ interrupted Hilary. ” “Let me tell you the reason you are here.
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