When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. Eventually her movements carried her to the little stand at the side of the bed. "I am Owen Wood, at your service. General Lord Charvill disinherited him for his pains. A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. Out of an old family album: here was the very comparison that had eluded him. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. ” Michelle streamed over to them as if on cue, her eyes not meeting Mike’s. ” Her eyes glinted, macabre.
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