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In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. There was a lapse of time, an interval of blackness; then he found his hand in hers and she was leading him at a run up the side of the mountain. ‘Certainly no one will find it. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny. ” “I suppose,” Ennison said, “the likeness between the sisters must be rather exceptional?” “I never saw the goody-goody one close to, so I can’t say,” Drummond answered. Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips.
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