"Ay, indeed! And who may that be?" inquired his wife. He wants you—or he doesn’t; and then he helps some other woman against you. ’ ‘Woof!’ Sergeant Trodger’s eyes fairly popped out of his head, and he seized his prisoner’s arm again. She had black hair, fine eyebrows, and a clear complexion; and the forces that had modelled her features had loved and lingered at their work and made them subtle and fine. “You will not object,” he said, glancing towards her, “to accepting a deposit. ‘Now let’s have it. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. " "And were I in yours," rejoined the woollen-draper, "I should be doubly apprehensive, because he's a professed friend. " "So I perceive," replied Wood.
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