"Here," repeated her brother. The woollen-draper looked at his watch. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. The commissionaire smiled. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. I’m minded to take a whip and beat some sense into you. But I do not need that Gérard attend. " "My strength fails me," gasped the fugitive.
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