For a time she promenaded the room. It wound around a small manufactured lake. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. "You can, of course, identify this picture as Lady Trafford's property?" pursued Jonathan, with a meaning glance, as he handed it to the knight. Stopping before each door, they took up the plates of the locks, examined the ponderous bolts, and were struck with the utmost astonishment at what they beheld.
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