He had not had time to aim the pistol. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. Restraining with an effort his intense curiosity, he talked of general subjects only, trying his best to entertain her. A young man was playing the banjo. ’ ‘A pox on the creature,’ swore Mrs Sindlesham, clenching and unclenching her stiff fingers.
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