Not even for Ruth could he do such a beastly thing. “Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape. She forced herself not to think of John. She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page. This girl whom he had met by chance and befriended had done both. Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet. Anna herself opened the hall door. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence.
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