“I had those beautiful roses from you on my first night, and a tiny little note but no address. Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. ” She laughed gaily—and she had a way when she laughed of throwing back her head and showing her beautiful white teeth, so that mirth from her was a thing very much to be desired.
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