She pulled her veil down, and he knew that silence was best. Yet before she turned once more to resume her flight she schooled herself with an effort to look where it had happened. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. ” “Perhaps,” he said, “you had better let me have your key, and I will go up and explore. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone. "What is your name?" To-day, however, he broke the monotony. Ruth out of the picture, he wouldn't have concerned himself so eagerly in regard to Spurlock's departure.
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