It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. “I have always,” she admitted calmly, “taken a certain amount of interest in Annabel’s future. A boy no older than she, Gianfrancesco’s cousin, whispered what he would like to do to her when she stole into the hallways near the women’s chambers to fix herself.
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