“My hand! This isn’t the place. Once more he begged; but as Ruth only repeated her sharp command, he spun about and raced toward the jungle. That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem.
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