" "And you flatter yourself you can detain me?" laughed Jack. Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind. I must say what I have to say!” “But not now—not here. —Strype's Stow. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. It appears that he was an unsuccessful admirer of the lady in question, and he admits that, under the influence of drink, he broke into her rooms, and there made a determined attempt at suicide.
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