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"Hist!" exclaimed Jack. "It's like enough, I dare say," rejoined Sheppard. I've an idea it'll be that long before the chap gets up. And I want you for myself—for my wife. Sanguine they were not. She gasped with pain, but she did not release her grip. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. .
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