Never before had he seen a man like Enschede nor heard a voice like Ruth's. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. “Mr. ” “It is you,” he cried, “you, who are talking folly, when you speak of friendship between you and me.
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