He has hanged twelve of his associates already. But Ruth was his woman, and he had sworn to God to defend her. Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. I wouldn't have him see me in this state for the world. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets.
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