By now the horses would be rested and he might go as swiftly back again. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. Hastily ascending these steps, Jack found the door, as he anticipated, locked. He neither attempted to prevent his nephew's departure, nor to follow him. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration.
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