Hastily ascending these steps, Jack found the door, as he anticipated, locked. The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. I won't keep you long. . ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. He impetuously grasped a hold of her hand, looking for a callous. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack.
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