It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. “Yeah. While this was going on, Jack suddenly made a movement which attracted the turnkey's attention; and during that interval the old man slipped some articles wrapped in a handkerchief into Bess's hands, who instantly secreted them in her bosom. " "But they are everything to me," cried Jack, stooping to pick them up.
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