‘Laisse-moi,’ she panted, shifting wildly in his hold, so that he had all to do to keep her thus imprisoned. Sebastian’s land holdings were enormous, reaching across the Alps. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. All her questions would have as a background the idea of future defence. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. Shoplatch. And now I've another job for you.
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