Again he rushed. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. ’ ‘I’m afraid you are right. ‘Ah, bah, it is enough,’ she cried, and turning, ran out of the room.
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