” She hesitated. The Jacobite. ” “You haven’t answered my question. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. ” His voice rose and fell amidst the music and the singing of Tristan and King Mark, like a voice heard in a badly connected telephone. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love.
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