In the bad light he looked at once military and sentimental and studious, like one of Ouida’s guardsmen revised by Mr. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. And here against a wall were the plumtrees. Love, obliterated, annihilated; out of his heart and out of his Bible. ‘He could have little comfort there, indeed.
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