They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. "Save him," replied Jonathan. “John, we should be getting out of here. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought. She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears.
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