"But I'm a blackguard, too, Ruth. He put his arms around her in a circular embrace. She confided in me yesterday. But I trusted to that ring of yours. His eyebrows arched, knotting in the middle. Amidship there was also canvas, and like that over the wheel, drab and dirty. ’ She thrust him out of the room and made for the stairs. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie.
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