CHAPTER XIV. When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. " "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. My, um, my curfew. He has helped me out of scrapes though, no end of times.
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