“Why not?” He repeated, demanding. I somehow understood. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. He must be a sly fox to get out of the Mint without my knowledge. “But your sister,” he said.
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