She thought she had hidden well from him. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. For a moment he did not recognize Annabel. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. “I will tell you something if you like. In the little apartment, under the gas chandelier, his inches and his stoop were certainly very effective. . "And equally easy to prove it," replied Jack, giving him the paper he had abstracted from Wild.
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