There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. “Mom, this is the girl I asked to Prom, Lucy. ‘I take it that you like this great-niece of mine?’ ‘One cannot help but do so. But ——” A look checked him. She sat perfectly still, however. “G. Epithalamy might do. Jonathan's wicked threat is fulfilled at last.
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