It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. She felt terrible lying to him. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. "Come here," said the petticoated tyrant. But the vicomte has said that his sister may remain, but that the daughter must go. "I came to see Jack Sheppard, and I won't go till you point him out to me.
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