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Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. He opened the drawer of the writing table. What's it like, Joan?" "It's a small key, with curiously-fashioned wards. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. . "But, I own, I think it is like. “Two days’ notice shall be sufficient on either side.
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