"You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. "To go a little further. It was hard to resist. "If," interrupted Jackson, changing his tone: "he does live. "What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. Couldn’t face me with what he’d done, the miserable blackguard. Stanley in person.
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