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It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. It was horrible. Capes came back into her mind. But now that this bar is removed, I trust I may, without impropriety, urge it. She climbed back into the window an hour before sunrise. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. "I have not told you half.
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