He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. ” 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. You are your nephew's executioner, or he is yours. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation crept over her.
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