She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. ’ ‘Begging your pardon, miss, but I think as how you ought to go back to London,’ Jack ventured. Her pulses began to race. His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. If it was not an actual personal lover, it still might be the lover not yet incarnate, not yet perhaps suspected. Sebastian, as doctor, was constantly around the sick and the dying. Ruth stared thoughtfully at the waiting coolies. He added succinctly, ‘Windows are open.
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