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On beholding the intruders, his fears changed to exultation, and he uttered a roar of satisfaction as he glared at them, which could only be likened to the cry of some savage denizen of the plains. After all, life had still its pulsations. They were terrible, horrible people. We can’t even protect them from themselves. "I need not remind you, Sir Rowland, that I am aware you are deeply implicated in the Jacobite plot which is now known to be hatching. The light of memory flashed in the man’s face. Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel.
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