And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. God forgive you!" "May He, indeed, forgive me!" returned Trenchard, crossing himself devoutly; "but my guilt is not the less heavy, because your child escaped. "Sir!" exclaimed Winifred, rising. He was a shy boy outwardly but she knew him better in his thoughts, in which perhaps she had already taken upon the role of lover. " "She has paid dearly for it," muttered Blueskin.
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