Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. “My God!” he said again. ” Ten thousand! Put that way it seemed so different. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. Spurling, and her now accepted suitor, resumed their seats.
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