" "That is what I wanted to know," said Ruth gravely. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. Promise me that you’ll contact the police if she ever calls you on the phone, or worse, shows up at your school. Some rustic hand had written upon the door "JACK SHEPPARD'S CAGE;" and upon the wall was affixed a large placard describing his person, and offering a reward for his capture. "Look at him!" Ruth looked. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him.
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