She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. There was a photo of her that looked exactly like you. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. "And will swear to it?" "I will.
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