Wood, was examined. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. Not even for Ruth could he do such a beastly thing. In the artificial light her skin had the tint and lustre of a yellow pearl. Here, turnkey. "Ay, robbed him," reiterated Jonathan. Always at your service.
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