If he keeps his word, I'll keep mine. That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how. She saw his eyes glaze over. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. She looked away. Wood went on fuming, and the trio went on laughing for some minutes, nobody knew why or wherefore, until the party was increased by Mr. Never glance sideways at man. Brown or Jones, I dare say.
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