“Tell him to drive—anywhere,” she exclaimed. 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. “No, he grabbed my hand. After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. In this way, more than a month passed over. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. There were some deepseated fears of the rot spreading to England, if the simmering discontent of the peasantry of France were to erupt any further. And there was that dress of hers! She must be warned that she had been imposed upon.
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