The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. If individuality means anything it means breaking bounds— adventure. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. “Both!” said Ann Veronica.
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