"Good bye, Jack! Keep up your spirits. The hotel on the Peak had the aspect of a fairy castle. I have always managed to survive, haven’t I?” She was eager to stop talking about her parents. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving.
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