And here's the proof. " The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. I rarely set foot in London these days. But he tells them that I am a spy. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate.
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