The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. Austin, may repeat it if he pleases to his master, Jonathan Wild,—I have not. He seemed to charge her with the ruin of their situation. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. There ends my duty. It was ten feet long, a relic. The chamber, into which he stole, like all carpenters' workshops, was crowded with the implements and materials of that ancient and honourable art. He saw it in book-covers, on the stage. Don't you understand? Back among your own again, and only a few of us the wiser. They were a young man and an old one, and both appeared deeply affected.
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