The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. Where the stuff came from was always a mystery. He made a movement toward her, and then recalled the circumstances of their last conversation in that study. Humph. At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. I'm burning to get to work. He seemed to be labouring under some great excitement. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. Despite him, it was the beauty that she had inherited from her mother they had used to gain the betrothal, and it had not been easy. Both, perhaps?’ At that, her eyes darkened with fury.
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