The vicomte must be well known to those high-born who have gone to England. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. Manning central in her mind. He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple. “And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. It was still profoundly dark; but the wind, which had begun to blow with some violence, chased the clouds rapidly across the heavens, and dispersed the vapours hanging nearer the earth. Good heavens! She was discussing love-making.
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