Let us proceed with our tale. \" He said. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. But it was of no avail. ‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning heavily on his arm for a moment. How little he knew about Ruth—the background from which she had sprung! He knew that her father was a missioner, that her mother was dead, that she had been born on this island, and that, at the time of his collapse, she had been on the way to an aunt in the States. I know South America and Canada like the lines in my hand. ‘Oh my God,’ uttered Gerald in some dismay.
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