He and her father shook hands manfully. “You shall go,” he declared. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. They seemed to her that morning to be all armed with nets and prepared to throw them over her directly her movements became in any manner truly free. ‘How the deuce did she get out without me seeing her?’ ‘Took advantage of the distraction, cunning little devil,’ Gerald snapped, racing down the corridor. A thin line of red appeared in the white neck.
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