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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 makes no difference. ’ Lucilla frowned. ’ ‘What is all this about your proof?’ demanded Roding, diverted. Lucy grabbed its handle, her broken bones mending inside her causing her to wince in pain. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. I think we rest here until to-morrow?” There was a brief silence. “Mere sensuality. ‘Dear me.
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