Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas. Of course, he had no idea who I was. He dissected rather awkwardly and hurriedly, but, on the whole, effectively, and drew with an impatient directness that made up in significance what it lacked in precision. It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was. Ennison listened, and his eyes glowed. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. I might add that in any case I should not touch Sir John’s. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. So far as I'm concerned, nothing could please me more. ‘You are mad,’ Gosse uttered, and only just had time to get himself up from the floor. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought.
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