" "What do you think of my sketch, Jack?" said Hogarth, handing him the drawing. For some seconds of voluminous thinking they looked at the ring between them, and neither spoke. "I told you the prison wasn't built that could hold me," cried Jack. The cold air gave her gooseflesh under her red brocade dress as she slipped outside. Then she saw him. ‘Home?’ ‘To your family. ] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room.
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