You're welcome to it. "Oh! that was all, was it?" said the turnkey, quietly reseating himself. If she spoke to a policeman she did not know what would ensue. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. "And the rings?" "Ja.
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