"And I want to thank you, too," supplemented Ruth. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. His smile faded. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. He took his social pleasures once a year in Hong-Kong, after Easter.
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