In all her life no living thing had had to depend upon her, not even a dog or a cat. Taking his way along East Smithfield, mounting Little Tower-hill, and threading the Minories and Hounsditch, he arrived without accident or molestation, at Moorfields. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. " "I will go, if you will consent to meet me at midnight near the old house in Wych Street," replied Jack. You are my wife, and I am determined to claim you.
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