He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. Easy enough. Ruth hugged the envelope and McClintock, with the end of a burnt match, drew a cabalistic sign. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. . Sepulchre's clock struck eight. He refused.
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