Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. ‘But it is not on the horse at all, Jacques. McClintock says they can't get in there, or at least they never try it. If hate could kill, Ramage would have been killed by a flash of hate. I thought it was a mirror at the first, for it was so very like myself.
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