His eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy; he let out a sigh. “Just look that through, will you. Gently each time Ruth drew down the arms. Bit priggish, isn’t it? And if he only knew it—so absurd. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. In the obscurity in which it was now seen, it looked like a prison, and, indeed, it was Jonathan's fancy to make it resemble one as much as possible. And mind, your life,—more than your life—hangs upon your choice.
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