“He was a friend of your sister’s, was he not?” “I never heard her mention his name,” she answered. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. " Upon which, he plunged his oars deeply into the stream, and the bark shot from the strand. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember.
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