“Good God!” he exclaimed. " "But how in the Lord's name was she brought up? There's a queer story back of this somewhere. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. “I want to speak to you. It feels like it. Place a pistol at my ear, and shoot me, if I've told you false. Wood, at Dollis Hill —" "Let me have one," said a carpenter, who was passing by at the moment,—"Mr. "I understand," replied Rowland. ‘She won’t confide in you? Now, why?’ ‘Because that scoundrel Leonardo drummed it into her head that no man was to be trusted,’ Gerald announced viciously. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. “Do all foster kids have the instinct?” Michelle asked naively. So Ruth found that for a while her eyes were free.
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