She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. Annabel seated herself in an easy chair and determined to wait for her sister’s return. "I have killed her," exclaimed Jack, dropping the bar,—"by your advice, Thames. And, as he quitted the room, the poor widow fell with her face upon the floor. Kneebone, addressing his comely attendant; "put a few more plates on the table, and bring up whatever there is in the larder. At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. She made a curious movement toward her niece, then suddenly, convulsively, she dabbed down something lumpy on the table and turned to follow her brother. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. .
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