She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. Spurling. He bent to her hand, and she slipped off the ring and gave it to him to examine. "Choose between good and evil;— between him and me. Empty, silly, coarse brutes. "Can you pull him through?" was the anxious question. "So, you're admiring my cabinet, Sir Rowland," he remarked, with a sinister smile; "it is generally admired; and, sometimes by parties who afterwards contribute to the collection themselves,—ha! ha! This skull," he added, pointing to a fragment of mortality in the case beside them, "once belonged to Tom Sheppard, the father of the lad I spoke of just now.
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