The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. It was a moment before he recognised that the effect had been similar on all those present, including General Lord Charvill. Considering how little he lets her have. "My name is Darrell," said the fugitive hastily.
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