But I'm resolved to see Lady Trafford. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. Her father was right: Ruth must never know. They litter up the room. Whence had she come: whither was she bound? A temporary congestion in the street held up the caravan for a spell; and Ah Cum looked backward to note if any of the party had become separated. ’ ‘What is all this about your proof?’ demanded Roding, diverted. She controlled herself, and answered meekly, “No.
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