‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. Mr. “I do not know what you mean,” he said, “but if you are referring to any little coolness since our marriage let us never speak of it again. Ruth is not another man's wife; she is all your own, for better or for worse. Not a breath was drawn. Nab and Quilt to the door! Jack, you are my prisoner.
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