" Ruth walked to the companion. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. He took a sip of punch and commenced his relation. “Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world,” she cried. He bent to her hand, and she slipped off the ring and gave it to him to examine. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. " "Pray come to the point, Sir," said Mrs. "It was that song that put it into my head to cut my name on the beam.
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