Her lips came together with an expression between contentment and the faintest shadow of a smile, her manner was one of quiet reserve, and behind this mask she was wildly discontented and eager for freedom and life. She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. Why may I not be your friend? Somehow or other I feel that you have been driven into a false position. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. But I am not worthy to be any man's wife —far less his wife. ” “Then, whoever he may be, he is not Meysey Hill,” Courtlaw said. Spurlock bent his head to his knees.
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