The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. They had not to tarry long. He played variations on this theme for the better part of an hour. Let the law put its hand on his shoulder—if it could! But at present he was at liberty, and he purposed to remain in that state. She too had seen.
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