"He is dying?" whispered Ruth. " "My father!" exclaimed Thames, in the utmost astonishment; "let me see it!" "Here it is," returned Jack, producing a small picture in a case set with brilliants. The woman shrugged her shoulders. "I have some difficulty in preventing myself from becoming your executioner. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness. Now, will you stand aside?" "I won't," answered Jack, obstinately. Beck, it smells wonderful in here.
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