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’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. She had already realized that this instructress was hopelessly wrong and foggy—it is the test of the good comparative anatomist—upon the skull. The man was dangerous. Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. One day a pall of blackness encompassed the sick mind of the giant; and when he came to his senses, they properly functioned: and he saw his wife by his bedside! An astonishing idea entered Ruth's head one day—when the novel was complete in the rough—an astonishing idea because it had not developed long ago. "They have ever since been deposited in a place of safety. We’ll run away together, we’ll elope.
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