It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. Miss Stanley hesitated, and took first one and then another of the constituents of this costume off its peg and surveyed it. It’s just life, pure life, life nascent, running clear and strong. "Fool!" he cried, "do you think I wouldn't have secured you before this if I hadn't some motive for my forbearance?" "And that motive is fear," replied Jack contemptuously.
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