I wonder. Suddenly he felt Ruth swing violently away from him, and he wheeled to learn the cause. He understood now that it was a part of her inheritance. His own peculiar genius—a miracle key to the hidden things in men's souls—had given him this immediate and astonishing illumination. He cherished her. “Mere sensuality. ‘Do you tell me that my disreputable son had the infernal insolence to pass you off as that whoring Frenchwoman’s daughter?’ His answer was in their faces. I hid because there was no other way of seeing you. It is Anna again who stands between me and ruin. She wanted to kiss his feet. I hope—I am sure that he did not see me. You are afraid of the warmth in your blood. At last some anodyne formed itself from these exercises, and, with eyelashes wet with such feeble tears as only three-o’clock-in-the-morning pathos can distil, she fell asleep. Sheppard. Pierre.
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