And there was another matter. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. . ’ She eyed him. " Davies reluctantly complied. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. Her brother Roddy, who was in the motor line, came to expostulate; her sister Alice wrote. His grey eyes burned under his shaggy eyebrows. "Well, gentlemen," rejoined Wood, mildly; "since Mr.
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