‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. In the middle there was a gate. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. She took a deep breath. Gianfrancesco never suspected that I had my own reasons for wanting you for my wife. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. Most of it had been incomprehensible to her, or comprehensible in a way that checked further curiosity, but the figure of Vivien, hard, capable, successful, and bullying, and ordering about a veritable Teddy in the person of Frank Gardner, appealed to her. " "Sir Rowland is dead," replied Jonathan, gloomily.
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