And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. In the sixth center row sat an unexpected guest, his Classical Greek features stark in the yellow half light. He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple. “I shan’t eat him. \" She knew he was blushing in the dark. Oh! that I should live to be father-in-law to a peer of France! What would my poor wife say to it, if she could come to life again? Oh, Thames!—my lord marquis, I mean—you have made me the happiest—the proudest of mankind. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. She looked at him curiously. Mercifully, John had been sick for two of the three days of Thanksgiving week, giving her reprieve from both his presence and the machinations of Katy Pfister, who was always less active on days when he was not around.
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