" The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. They could not go on. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. ” “You would let him—knowing—all that you know?” “Why not? She is my flesh and blood. "'Tis a cruel thing you've done, lad. ” She smiled at the thought. " "Is this your notable scheme!" asked the knight, scornfully. To find the incentive! But how? Thither and yon the idea roved, seeking the way.
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