This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. "Where's Thames?" he hastily inquired. "Where is he?" he cried. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. “I think,” he said, “that I would fetch any one whom he has asked to see.
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