] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. “There is someone in my rooms,” Anna said. But that was soon put right, and she walked out into London with a peculiar exaltation of mind, an exaltation that partook of panic and defiance, but was chiefly a sense of vast unexampled release. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. Never any doubt of it. “Hey,” he said, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft blackness. This spot, which still retains its name, acquired the appellation from an old crone who lived there, and who, in addition to a very equivocal character for honesty, enjoyed the reputation of being a witch.
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