It could not be a legal marriage. But come, sir. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. I do not choose the vicomte, for that would be foolish. At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. She pulled herself together and put her eye to the eye-piece. “That’s all very well when one isn’t the material experimented upon,” Ann Veronica had remarked. Make haste!" Ruth hurried off to her own room. In the periphery of her vision, she saw the door pulled back.
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