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His hand rested heavily and cruelly upon Ruth's shoulder. Wood's anxiety to please her distinguished guests speedily displayed itself in a very plentiful, if not very dainty repast. But, this sad affair disposed of, I will not rest till I have avenged my murdered parents. ‘I told you I could handle her. Give me the chisel, Blueskin. ’ ‘A mistake, I agree. Accounts were now always where he could put his hand on them. Lucy slipped upstairs silently.
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