CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. Á bientot—Melusine. Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper. .
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