If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. She walked across to this apartment and, opening the door a little wider, discovered a press section of the movement at work. “You will go and see her,” he begged. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. I'll forgive him if he does. But to England we will go. How she hated talking of the man who was responsible for her being brought into the world.
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