She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose. Come along home, Ruth. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them. "You are my prisoner, Jack. “Yes! I must! The thing is becoming a torture to me. ” “Touch you I mean?” She looked around.
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