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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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