That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. 192 Her skirt had ridden almost to her hips. "She wouldn't let me go. As this had been Mrs. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane. She stared.
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