He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon. “Well,” he said at last slowly, “I’ll pay it. All the talk in the world would not describe Ruth. “We parted— that night the best of friends. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. I looked upon you from the first as the most promising of my pupils. Towards night, however, he ventured out, and walked on towards London. How did you get into this house?’ He shrugged.
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