" CHAPTER XIII. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. Of all the entirely English women I know, you’re the only one with a French accent. ” “I suppose I must have thought so. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. If he hasn't a job for you, he'll know someone who has. Ruth, standing by, heard his true laughter for the first time. Only she is not Madame Valade at all.
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