She had not noticed such beauty in many years, and it almost caused her to weep. ‘Espéce de diable,’ she screamed. Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. I've been hunting for this particular job for a thousand years!" She smiled a little sadly over this fine enthusiasm; for in her wisdom she had a clear perception where it would eventually end—in the veranda chair. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child.
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