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She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. ” She finished her breakfast and strolled out across the garden with the letters still in her hand. “I am sure of it. ’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. But a little daughter is one thing and a daughter quite another.
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