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I pray you, Gérard, do not fail me. But as the mystery which surrounded Ruth fell away that which enveloped her father thickened. You’ll be telling me Gerald did not catch you snooping at the Bicknacres, I suppose. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire.
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