Sheppard, with startling eagerness. ‘Dieu du ciel, but answer me!’ Martha’s eyes were swimming again, and she reached out. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect. Just this? Parbleu, did he think this was enough? She did not wish to marry him—at least, not just because he was an Englishman. “Ann Veronica,” he said.
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