The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. It’s no good flying out at that, Vee; I didn’t arrange it. “By-the-bye,” he said, presently, “your sister was married to old Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t she? I saw the notice in the papers.
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