"Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression. “Jacques is wounded and we are arrested by this imbecile of a sergeant. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve.
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