" The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. And here's the proof. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. The order was promptly obeyed, and the horses proceeded at a furious pace along the Edgeware Road.
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