She yielded it without protest, as though unconsciously. He whispered in her ear. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. ‘Sapristi,’ he gasped. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. Hugging them, they crept stealthily around the house, Major Alderley leading, and wasting—so his captain acidly commented—a deal of time checking the windows and doors.
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