] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. "This your regular business?" "For the present. This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. Wrenched from their holds, the iron palisades in front of the thief-taker's dwelling were used as weapons to burst open the door.
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