"I've set a trap for him. To have spoken lightly on such a subject a few hours ago would have seemed incredible. The child has sprung into a youth; the youth has become a man; the man has already begun to feel the advances of age. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. ‘Exactly like my father. She recovered herself, however, with amazing facility. " This expression was old in Ruth's ears. "He is dying?" whispered Ruth.
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