The poor fellow's half smothered. Shotbolt, who had in some degree recovered from the effects of his previous mortification, was thrown into an ecstacy of delight, and could not sufficiently exult over the prisoner. His pulses beat fast as he walked, his feet fell lightly upon the pavement. He did his best not to grin. ” He resumed, after a mouthful: “Here is a girl of sixteen or seventeen, seventeen and a half to be exact, running about, as one might say, in London. " "I think I remember reading something about your father in the papers," observed Wood. "Well, like or not, I'm greatly pleased with it, and must beg it from you as a memorial——" "Of what?" she interrupted, startled by his change of manner. ] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room.
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