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Spurlock stared at Ruth across the rim of his bowl. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. His pipe hung dead in his teeth, but the smoke was dense about him. “Those things are not for me just at present. And, if Rachel had not carried a candle, the room would have been plunged in total darkness. Will you tell her that?" "I will," replied Thames, earnestly. So Ruth found that for a while her eyes were free. Profligate women are never reclaimed.
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