‘You will not believe any of my very clever lies. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. Oh, yes; of Ruth herself he knew much; but the more he mulled over what he knew, the deeper grew his chagrin. Suddenly she felt her wrist grasped by a strong hand.
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