The young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess’s side. 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. But it was not so ordered. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. .
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