The race began once more; but this time Ruth knew that there would be no escape. Ah! she looks this way, and puts her finger to her lips. But Jack eluded their grasp. E. " "Not at fisticuffs, perhaps," interrupted Jack, fiercely; "but I've my knife. I don’t care! I’m glad I did. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago.
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