‘But I don’t trust you an inch. This man’s name is Montague Hill. “Dear John,” she whispered. I have come thirteen thousand miles for this young fellow; I'm ready to go galloping thirteen thousand more. Give him this letter, child, and bid him take it to the Lodge at Newgate without loss of time. As no apprehension was entertained of an escape by this outlet,—nothing of the kind having been attempted by the boldest felon ever incarcerated in Newgate,—both doors were generally left open during the daytime. He felt hands tugging at him, mysterious creatures with long fingers and sharp nails that pulled at his flesh. "What is it?" "Can't you see? Together, down there; you and I!… As my wife! Both of us, never to be lonely again!… Will you marry me, Ruth?" As many a wiser woman had done, Ruth mistook thrilling eagerness for love.
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