He folded the garments carefully and replaced them on the chair. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea. The bed-and table-linen were of the finest texture. Contests were held every year, the type of which depended on her caprice. He glanced up at the coachman. Why had Ruth married him? A penniless outcast, for she must have known he was that.
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