Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. But Sheppard took no notice of the exclamation. Anna merely glanced at the coarse, flushed features, and at once shook her head. But I dare not accept it. His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. Give me the chisel, Blueskin. ‘What am I looking for?’ ‘A miniature.
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