" Trenchard took up a pen. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. “To be frank with you, Lady Lescelles, when your brother asked me the other day to be his wife I was under a false impression as regards his relations—with some other person. ‘I think that was what began his downfall. “You poor thing. An admirable alternative presented itself and she sighed, spreading her hands. ‘I broke in.
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