John stared palely. A shaft of searing heat plunged downward. “But your hair,” he gasped. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes. Sir John stood upon the threshold. She stood up before him, smiling faintly. ‘To the contrary, I will have you to know something. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall.
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