The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. ” “Fine. When the hero finally did appear, Ruth became filled with gentle self-mockery. Looking sullen, he released the handle and sat back. This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend.
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