" "Oh, no!" Ruth protested. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. " At this moment, Saint Sepulchre's clock struck six. Her brown curls were pulled tight in a severe chignon. "Captain Darren," he added, sternly, "you shall hear from me. ’ Gerald eyed her with interest.
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