That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. Her birthday was four months away, and that, at its extremist point, might give her another five pounds. But there was, it insisted, no mobility in his face, no movement, nothing about him that warmed. . ’ ‘Melusine, sir,’ Gerald reminded the general, exchanging a frustrated glance with Mrs Sindlesham. ’ A sudden thought brought a frown to her brow.
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