What was the fellow doing in this part
of the town? Had not Lady Bicknacre said he was living at Paddington?
The Frenchman, booted and neat in buckskin breeches and a plain frockcoat, a
flat-brimmed hat on his head, paused a moment at an intersection with one of the
roads leading north, apparently seeking a street sign. . "
"Confidentially, I'm assured that he has another. From his pale skin
and inky hair color it was apparent that his ancestry was
half-Hispanic and half-European, perhaps French. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the
egotism of his own passionate love. You shall have your reward. Keep your eye upon the lad. I wonder if she has any idea how oddly beautiful she is?"
Ruth at that precise moment was engaged by a relative wonder. "Rather cramped, eh?"
"Rather so, Sir," replied the other, altering his position. Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring
over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. He got
out of the car and lifted her from the convertible before
she could open the door. But she did not know what he knew, that it
would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams,
of Ramage. They will claim particular attention hereafter.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 06-07-2024 14:43:49