” “Your priestess,” whispered Ann Veronica, softly. ‘Don’t be too sure,’ responded Major Gerald Alderley on a dry note. " "Delay the marriage till then. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. ‘You don’t favour her, bar the black hair. "Thank Heaven!" she gasped.
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