She held out her arms to him and smiled. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. At least I can’t talk to them. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. Ruth is not another man's wife; she is all your own, for better or for worse. ‘That fellow of yours is a deal better, by the by. Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed.
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