. Startled by the cry, as may be supposed, the attention of the whole congregation was drawn towards the quarter whence it proceeded. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. You might trust me with the Chevalier himself,—I'd never betray him. Then, in a few years, he and Ruth might fare forth in comfort and security. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. “I am staying at the Savoy.
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