‘You said it. “It’s a nice holiday. " "Caught you napping, eh?" rejoined Ireton, with a laugh. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. You must let me do whatever I can for you. Melusine giggled, and tucked her hand into his. Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear.
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