It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. “This is all very well,” she said, “but two out of the three are rank deserters— and if the papers tell the truth the third is as bad. "I don't know what I think," Wood answered sulkily; and he bent his eyes upon the water, as if he wished to avert his attention forcibly from the scene. We’ll run away together, we’ll elope.
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