\"Good night, girls. “There wasn’t. But this might be merely a figurative mode of describing his customary vigilance. ’ ‘I find that difficult to believe,’ snapped the general, jerking to and fro as his agitation mounted. Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. Look! Is that some one coming out?” The front door of the flats stood open, and through it a woman, slim and veiled, passed on to the pavement and turned with swift footsteps in the opposite direction. She shivered, more due to his presence than the changing weather. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron.
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