Gerald guessed she was biting her tongue on an explosive retort as she eyed him. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. \" She was surprised that he had noticed her existence as early as her arrival at the Beck house. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. But I do not need that Gérard attend.
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