She had heard the trader utter it many times. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. He talked very little and rather absently. ” “And our destinations also, it seems,” she added, smiling.
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