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‘Tee-ree-sa. He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. Ruth came to him directly. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand.
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