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It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. “Good, I’m so glad, Lucy. He's going to ask you to Prom. If you had lived twenty years ago you would have been called a Young Person, and it would have been your chief duty in life not to know, never to have heard of, and never to understand. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them. She washed her face with unwonted elaboration before she went to bed. The annihilation of the Terror which fascinated her and troubled her dreams o' nights. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances.
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