Cathy's eyebrows perked up. But there was, it insisted, no mobility in his face, no movement, nothing about him that warmed. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. He envied her a little. This person was speedily followed by half a dozen others, some of whom carried flambeaux. ’ ‘Just what I thought, miss. ’ Madame ventured a glance up at his face, and fluttered her lashes.
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