Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. "You must not remain here another instant," replied Thames. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do.
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