The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. But I shan't let him off thus. Then, one night, he glanced up to behold Ruth and Rollo in the doorway. " "My father was of the blood-royal of France," exclaimed Thames. He had a wild impulse to shout. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway.
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