I have only just left Wych Street. " "There isn't an angel in heaven, Ruth, purer or sweeter than you are. He parried without apparent effort. Part 4 After a day or so she thought more steadily. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl.
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