” The detective thrust his notebook into his pocket. "It's all up, master," groaned Ben, "nothin' short of a merracle can save us. There was only one prisoner in the ward. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. Ruth is not another man's wife; she is all your own, for better or for worse. Suddenly she felt her wrist grasped by a strong hand. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it.
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