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She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. None of this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing. Without stopping to inquire into the cause of their mirth, or even to ask the names of his guests, the worthy carpenter shook hands with the one-eyed chapmen, slapped Mr. Wood. By this time, the door was unlocked, and drawing his sword, Quilt entered the cell. ’ Fury rippled again. "Jack Sheppard's fingers are lime-twigs.
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