Wood sank, submissively, into a chair, while his daughter hastened to execute her arbitrary parent's commission. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. "No bones broken, I hope," said Thames, laughing at Jack, who limped towards the bench, rubbing his shins as he went. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences. There was. Nothing else was put in their place, and they remained sotto voce, as it were, in his mind. His fingers closed upon her hand.
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