No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. "But it is much to me. ” “How the hell did you learn to play like that?” “Lots of practice, John. When the hero finally did appear, Ruth became filled with gentle self-mockery. By the side of her plate was a small key.
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