The sky was cloudless, effulgent blue. Roused by Ben's warning, the carpenter looked up and could just perceive the dusky outline of the bridge looming through the darkness, and rendered indistinctly visible by the many lights that twinkled from the windows of the lofty houses. “It’s Ennison, isn’t it?” he exclaimed. Ruth was at that stage where the absorption of facts is great, but where the mental digestion is not quite equal to the task. ‘But then again, possibly not. You shall behold him. "Why, of hanging the fellow who acts as his jackal; one Blake, or Blueskin, I think he's called. Hoddy.
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