" "That's right," replied Wild, with a ghastly smile. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought. “Dear husband,” she murmured. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. ‘So it would appear. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. I hate what I am. If so I shall have to leave.
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