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Through her door curtain she could see the light from the study lamp. His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. “Go down and rescue the rags of my reputation,” she said, smiling. " "Sir Rowland Trenchard!" echoed Jack, in amazement. ‘Do not say such things, you—you imbecile.

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