"You don't recollect me, I presume?" premised the stranger, taking a seat. None of this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing. To have the present lengthen into years! But in a few hours she would be upon her way, far lonelier than she had ever been. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her.
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