There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes. "Let it pass. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. I’ll take over here. There was no point in rushing into the long walk home. It was the crowned queen of mountains in her robes of shining white. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight.
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