‘Do not imagine that I will leave poor Jacques. Ennison spoke at last. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. How easily an evil thought could penetrate a normally decent mind! All he had to do was to disclose Spurlock's destination, and in a few months Ruth would be free. Parbleu, but what grandfathers I have!’ It was stalemate, Gerald thought, irrepressible amusement leaping into his chest. She did not forge a note. At last—I told a story.
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