"Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. Jonathan nodded assent. I must go to-night, or I shall never behold him again. “I ought to look up Gwen,” she said. “I meant it. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. She shuddered. It would be an ice storm by midnight if it did not let up. "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. She had not been sufficiently prompted in relation to the ways of caravansaries; but her mind had been alert and receptive. " "Figg's an old friend of mine," rejoined Jack; "he was my instructor in the small sword and back sword exercise.
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