“You do not quite understand,” she said gently. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. "You don't recollect me, I presume?" premised the stranger, taking a seat. He was also aware that all his arguments would shatter themselves against her resolutions. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. Her father was right: Ruth must never know.
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