She saw his eyes glaze over. Never before had he seen a man like Enschede nor heard a voice like Ruth's. "Very well, Mr. That's the only fault I know of. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. He pressed the long shapely hand warmly in his. October arrived; and in another week the court would be sitting at the Old Bailey. The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. “I hope that whatever your plans may be, you will give me the opportunity of seeing something of you now and then.
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