So, step by step, and hurt by hurt, Ruth was learning that John Smith was John Smith and nobody else. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. ‘Oh, you are making a game with me. He guided himself between her legs. ‘No, no, I am convinced your very first theory was right. But he was at last persuaded that I mean you no harm, and that I might—just possibly, since I am both a gentleman and a major of militia—be able to be of more assistance to you than he himself.
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