It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. He was always doing his best to call her attention to the fact that he was a man of spirit and quality and experience, and she a young and beautiful woman, and that all sorts of constructions upon their relationship were possible, trusting her to go on from that to the idea that all sorts of relationships were possible. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. 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. If the boy had done anything wrong back there in the States, his would be the brand of conscience to pay him out in full. ” Ann Veronica said nothing, and Miss Klegg went on: “He very often IS— most unfair.
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