She could not help but swoon a little. By the side of her plate was a small key. Both Ruth and McClintock came down to the launch to wish him God-speed and good luck. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. ’ ‘No, perhaps not,’ Gerald agreed with a smile.
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