He was no match for Brendon. You don’t understand. This moment couldn’t be better until the next moment comes. The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. “One hardly knows—all the time. She looked at the suitcase sadly and stashed it underneath her bed.
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