To tell Ruth anything, it would be necessary to tell her everything; and I cannot and you must not. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. There was now a girl in the picture, so it seemed. She looked from Anna, who was far too nice-looking to be travelling about alone, to that reassuring pile of luggage, and wrinkled her brows thoughtfully. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love.
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