A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. From the Sha-mien to the yacht, Spurlock had uttered no word; though, even in the semi-darkness, no gesture or word of Ruth's escaped him. A sprinkling of callow youths, and a couple of pronounced young Jews, who were talking loudly together in some unintelligible jargon of the City. For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. Then blackness. The completest capitulation would not wipe out that trouble. “There is a secret.
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