Lost from all protection, all her family dead—as are mine. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. Suddenly he felt Ruth swing violently away from him, and he wheeled to learn the cause. "Can I help you, Jack?" asked Thames, taking up a plane.
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