"Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain. He came as an agreeable diversion from an insoluble perplexity. "What are you doing with him?" "It's a long story, Captain, and I've no breath to tell it,—unless you choose to release me," rejoined Quilt. The more she disentangled the lines of her situation the deeper grew her self-disgust. How easily an evil thought could penetrate a normally decent mind! All he had to do was to disclose Spurlock's destination, and in a few months Ruth would be free. . She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. So I am already no longer the girl you knew at Morningside Park.
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