Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. “Yeah, everybody knows him Mom. Capes stood side by side upon an old Persian carpet that did duty as a hearthrug in the dining-room of their flat and surveyed a shining dinner-table set for four people, lit by skilfully-shaded electric lights, brightened by frequent gleams of silver, and carefully and simply adorned with sweet-pea blossom. How Jack Sheppard's Portrait was painted. That had taken her by surprise, and her tired wits had failed her.
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