“Perhaps one talks nonsense about a woman’s instinct,” she said. “I think we have,” he answered, gravely, and took her in his arms, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, and very tenderly kissed her lips. “Don’t they look like a pair of young lovers sleeping off a tryst?” He observed. Ruth stared thoughtfully at the waiting coolies. It was eleven o'clock. He was a fool. For a moment he did not recognize Annabel.
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