" CHAPTER XIII. Keeping to the shadow of the house, he crept forward until he could see better without, he hoped, being seen. To-night all London believes that he was your husband. I think John 42 will be there. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. For that matter, my future be damned. But I found it no laughing matter, I can assure you. I have suffered—I have sinned—I have repented. When Jack came to speak of Jonathan Wild, his countenance fell.
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