"You want him?" "Please!" said Ruth. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. It must be my fault that you have not learnt that your husband is the man to come to—at such a time as this. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. It’s best. His eyes caught at hers with passionate inquiries. But the offences I have committed are venial in comparison with what I should commit were I to wed your father. Still keeping ahead of his pursuers, he ran along the direct road, till the houses disappeared and he got into the open country. " This she did carefully, but inwardly commenting that he was still in the realm of strange fancies.
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