" Ruth turned back toward the stairs. " "Bring him here,—let me see him—let me embrace him—let me be assured that he is safe, and I am yours. The word of a Chinaman; he had given it, so he must abide. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. She had, poor inexperienced fool, given herself away. Deep verandas ran around the bungalows, with bamboo drops which were always down in the daytime, fending off the treacherous sunshine. The door popped open with a sigh. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. Heard of your last escape. I have weird skin. And he liked her.
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