Her family had hosted a feast in his honor for which they had taken weeks to prepare: with braised capons and lobster sausages and all sorts of delicious spiced stews her mother had made from secret recipes. \" He looked crestfallen. 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. ’ She inclined her head, looking up at him through her lashes, and passing a tongue lightly over her lips. “My arrival appears to be opportune,” he said stiffly. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. Here Jack Sheppard was unable to repress an exclamation of astonishment.
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