“I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. "Every inch of it," replied the woollen-draper. "No bones broken, I hope," said Thames, laughing at Jack, who limped towards the bench, rubbing his shins as he went. She recalled him. “I am afraid—I really think that one of us ought to go with you,” he said. “Please hurry. The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously.
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