A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. ’ ‘Parbleu,’ burst from Melusine indignantly. Somewhere in the world there was a book clerk with a discerning mind; for he had given her the best he had. "Do nothing without consulting my father—your father, Thames," she implored. You never saw him before yesterday. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence.
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