‘What do you mean?’ Gerald grinned. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. I made a wrong choice, it seems—but my voice remains. She went to the post-office and drew out and sent off her money to Ramage. At six o'clock, the wicket was shut; and at nine, the jail was altogether locked up.
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