When the hero finally did appear, Ruth became filled with gentle self-mockery. CHAPTER XXXI. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. “Do not be frightened, dear,” she said. As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. He would have to go on; he would be forced to enact all the obligations he had imposed upon himself.
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