Sir John felt that after all forty-five was not so very old. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought. “You were going to answer it?” “Certainly not!” she said deliberately. A woman touched him lightly on the arm, and smiled into his face. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless.
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