"And there you're right, you may dipind, marm," observed Terence. The impassivity of her features changed at last. ‘She won’t confide in you? Now, why?’ ‘Because that scoundrel Leonardo drummed it into her head that no man was to be trusted,’ Gerald announced viciously. Ruth was not a woman; she was a phenomenon. Rowland," she added, in an altered tone, "I am certain I shall not live many days. But men are so careless, there's no trusting anything to them! However, I must try to brazen it out.
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