Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. Best assured of that. Gerald hoped he had covered all options and had resisted the temptation to pay mademoiselle a visit. ‘And you mean this? Truly?’ ‘Entirely. From then on he was Ruth's dog. You must—you shall be mine. .
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