"He is dying?" whispered Ruth. Pull yourself together now. He was keen to get to work, but the inspiration would not come. The boy she had loved was gone. The Dawn Pearl; how well they had named her! The pearl without price—his and not his! He took her arm and drew it under his; and together they went down the veranda steps. How Jack Sheppard's Portrait was painted. Through fire and water, through penury and pestilence, your hand will always be on his shoulder.
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