She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. "It's very well you haven't crushed the poor little thing to death with this confounded clothes'-bag. My first visit will be to you. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. "In my opinion," remarked Kneebone, "it doesn't matter how soon society is rid of two such scoundrels; and if Blueskin dies by the rope, and Jonathan by the hand of violence, they'll meet the fate they merit. I’m going to tell you things plainly. Then, though full of confidence, he half doubted his power of accomplishing his designs. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was.
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