That night, she hunted the alleyways of the old town. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. Yet, stay! There is one thing I wish you to do. Suddenly the door of the flat opened and closed. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. You're alone, too, child. Ruth had not expected to be kissed; so the omission passed unnoted. "He does seem a very extraordinary person. “So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently.
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