Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. . Stay! I'll go myself. And then you go—and half throttle me. Wished to see you. She got out of bed, her eyes still half-closed, and stood slack jawed. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. Babies and females have got to keep hold of somebody or go under—anyhow, for the next few generations. When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. "What is your name?" "Ruth. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair.
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