The Wastrel did not relish this. ” She could have handled ten times the weight, and hoisted him on her back and carried him too. She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort.
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