To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. “You have even her name. Will you marry me?” Anna looked at him in blank amazement. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. ‘You have a knack of saying just the wrong thing. ‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding. On the same peg and evidently belonging to it was a black velvet Zouave jacket. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers.
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