I can’t imagine Londoners—particularly interested in me. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. " The Wastrel laughed. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. Her figure was, in some measure, hidden by a large scarf, and a deep hood drawn over the head contributed to her disguise; still it was evident, from her lofty bearing, that she had nothing in common, except an interest in their proceedings, with the crew by whom she was surrounded. " And Blueskin withdrew. I hope I haven't given any unintentional offence?" said the widow, again meekly appealing to Wood.
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