At sunset the swarming abruptly ceased; even the sampans appeared to draw closer together, with the quiet of water-fowl. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. " "To be sure he is," acquiesced Blueskin.
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