, 13, Montague St. I was the last on board. Her anger died and she eyed him. ‘Still—here? Wasting your—time. Acknowledge your faults. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city at night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!' … It kind of terrifies me," said Ruth, looking up, first at the face of her husband, then at McClintock's. "Never—never!" The words were scarcely pronounced, when the door was violently thrown open, and two men appeared at it. There is a tragedy to come. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. Her blood spurted into his mouth and he drank.
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