She elected to go to prison. Sharples," replied Quilt; "lock 'em up. One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain. “Dear friend,” she said, “remember that you are speaking to one who has failed in the only serious object which she has ever sought to accomplish. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. “How’s Mrs. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. Their subsequent conversation is outside the scope of our story.
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