Selecting a key from the heavy bunch committed to him by Austin, he threw open the door, and beheld Blueskin seated at the back of the small chamber, handcuffed, and with his feet confined in a heavy pair of stocks. For Ruth grew lovelier as the days went on. ‘I was not born to this. "He can't escape. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. “To the young man himself,” he answered, “no! I simply object to his calling here two or three times a week during my absence.
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