Never for a moment had violence come between these two since long ago he had, in spite of her mother’s protest in the background, carried her kicking and squalling to the nursery for some forgotten crime. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. " "A secret!" exclaimed Trenchard.
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