Cathy Beck was outraged. The only circumstance which served to awaken a darker feeling in his breast was, that his implacable foe Jonathan Wild had survived the wound inflicted by Blueskin, and was slowly recovering. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. Only in her eyes there seemed to be some apprehension of the fact that the young man’s clothes and manners were alike undesirable things.
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