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The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. “How’d you know it was me?” He looked conspiratorially into the room for hidden informants. Some day I may forgive you; but not now.
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