" "It is not Jack's voice," rejoined Mrs. No police officers or lurking storms were anywhere in sight. She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. Ruth obeyed, not willingly, but because there was something hypnotic in the authoritative tone. It is not for myself I fear. She rolled to one side.
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