Don’t be frightened, dear. You must have repented a little, or you would not have done that. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation. She was quite oblivious to the sensation she had created.
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