Perhaps it was just as well there was no inherited memory. “John,” she said, “I am afraid that I am going to make you unhappy. You’ll be telling me Gerald did not catch you snooping at the Bicknacres, I suppose. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. ” He said flatly. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall.
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