He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. ” “What ball?” The question was rhetorical. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. " "For a bit of kindness?" Ruth was plainly bewildered.
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