‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. But I was portentous, I can assure you. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. I will never consent till I see him. With his tongue lolling and his flea-bitten stump wagging apologetically, he glanced from face to face to see if there was any forgiveness visible. They found Ruth reading to Spurlock, whose shoulders and head were propped by pillows.
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