Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice. The door is open, so it is needless to ask leave to enter. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. "They'll escape. Hoped you'd not be retaken. Lucy sat paralyzed, as still as Tiger Lily on the death raft.
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