But it was only six-thirty. She looked into his eyes, truly noticing their gray color for the first time. With an open hand, he slapped her face. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny. Though the starling was more than two feet above the level of the water, he alighted with his little charge—which he had never for an instant quitted—in safety upon it. He had brought her here to this place—where her freedom was curtailed even more than at the convent so that a cavalier was very much needed—and only on Monday came again.
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