The conceit of Howard Spurlock in imagining he knew what mental suffering was! But Enschede was right: Ruth must never know. "I don't think that's likely. She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. It was rigged up for the occasion as it has been many a time before. Nor, he would wager, had the heroic Monsieur Valade, who had rescued her from that life and brought her to England, taught her in that short time all that Gerald was certain she knew of men. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “I don’t understand this change in you. “I can only be a few years older than you, and I have been married four years. Get nothing out of me.
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