Perhaps Ferringhall has pensioned her off. "Here I am, Captain," cried a voice from without. She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid. Haven’t I shown you over and over again that I mean you no harm? What do I have to do?’ ‘You can go away and leave me to my affairs,’ she threw at him. You see, I kidnapped poor Jack and made him promise to send me word if you went careering off anywhere. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. “It is too late for visitors,” she remarked.
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