” “Oh, Drummond’s dinner!” she repeated. Clarice was from Lombardy, fair-haired and light skinned. He tried to make love to me. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving. He looked at her guiltily. Her father was right: Ruth must never know.
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