You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. . ‘And nnever would you have f-found it. " "Very well, sir. " "Nonsense," returned Jonathan gruffly. I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. Here one might live the life of golden days. ” “And he sat at my table,” Annabel said bitterly, “and yet he did not know me. “Couldn’t we three go out and have some coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me. Rubbishy novels and pernicious rascals. There were words, then, that ran on indefinitely, with reversals? Here they meant one thing; there, the exact opposite. " And, with this, he coolly re-adjusted his peruke.
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