The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. ” It came upon him like a flash. Leonardo had taught her pretty well everything she could have need to know, when they had talked long at his bedside. Perhaps the day of her recompense was at hand. That was supposed to be Madame Valade. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils.
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