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All the same, I don’t admit it. Then Mr. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. ‘Whither away, mademoiselle?’ he said grimly, ungently grasping her arm above the elbow. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth.
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