How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. And it has been well for you that he imagines the child was drowned. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. I didn't expect you home before that hour, Sir. She felt him sometimes at night as he called to her in her dreams. "It is with no small concern," writes an anonymous historian of Newgate, "that I am obliged to observe that the women in every ward of this prison are exceedingly worse than the worst of the men not only in respect to their mode of living, but more especially as to their conversation, which, to their great shame, is as profane and wicked as hell itself can possibly be. But don't let my name frighten you.
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