‘Is there a resemblance?’ ‘This is Mary Remenham?’ ‘That is my late niece, yes. " The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. ‘So this is Pottiswick’s French spy. He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before. “I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive. Cathy's eyebrows perked up. I just suppose it isn’t worth the trouble. He refrained from pointing out that the case would be exactly the same if she was not a lady.
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