The first peg was torture. Anna nodded as she briskly crossed the pavement. Think! Had you not better hurry back before Sir John discovers? You are his wife right enough. Softly she rose to her feet. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. Fast. "Vot are you?" "Practising patience," growled Abraham.
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