Capes looked at one and not over one, spoke to one, treated one as a visible concrete fact. Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. "What's become of Ruth?" "Gone to her room.
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