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Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. She could have dined alone in her room; but courage had demanded that she face the ordeal and have done with it. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. She caught the fact that it was something more than strong drink that laid you out. “After all,” she said, “if this person will not be reasonable, I am afraid——” It was enough. They are not bad girls, but the average tourist has that misconception of them. "I've often heard of a secret door in this room, though I never saw it.
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