She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. The lovers broke into passionate knowledge of themselves and each other, and then, a jarring intervention, came King Mark amidst the shouts of the sailormen, and stood beside them. Cathy had not even noticed that she herself was wet and trailing water everywhere. But her great-aunt was nodding, as if this was what she had expected. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth.
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