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‘Is he meeting you here then, my dear?’ ‘He had better,’ said Lucilla. Let me see now. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. “Just the box only. So long as he lived, Spurlock knew that in fancy he would be reconstructing that scene between himself and Ruth's father.
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