Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. “Ask me nothing. ” She commanded. Out of an old family album: here was the very comparison that had eluded him. But he seized the chance to entrap her fingers, fan and all, and look deeply into her eyes. “DON’T!” she said, and wrenched her wrist from his retaining hand. From her stomacher, to which it was attached by a multitude of glittering steel chains, depended an immense turnip-shaped watch, in a pinchbeck case.
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