He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. ” She shook her head. May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. "At a place we call the Dark House at Queenhithe," answered Jonathan, "a sort of under-ground tavern or night-cellar, close to the river-side, and frequented by the crew of the Dutch skipper, to whose care he's to be committed. The girl is in it as deeply as he is.
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