She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. She saw his lips yell, “Stop. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. ‘To go to these Charvill, it was not in my plot. His noble Florentine roots went back a thousand years, to the days of grand Rome herself. He smiled at Ruth as she turned away from the bed, smiled with both his mouth and eyes; and she knew that here would be a man of heart as well as of science. At the head of the cart was placed the coffin.
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