Part 7 That was two days before Christmas Eve. "Hear me, Jack!" shrieked his mother. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. To tell Ruth anything, it would be necessary to tell her everything; and I cannot and you must not. No window. .
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