Chapter 11 IT IS THE RING.

Nita was walking alone in the grounds at twilight. The purple shades of the gloaming were shot through by the opaline light of a new moon swinging like a silver sickle in a rosy-lilac sky, and a wind from the sea-cool, salty, and delicious-stirred the flowers, shaking out fragrance upon the languid, love-breathing air of June.

The beautiful whit

            
            

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