Ruth loved him. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. If, when he returned, he blew out the light, she would go to bed; but if the light burned on for any length of time, she would go silently to the study curtain to learn if his agony was still upon him. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months. ‘You damned little fool! How dared you steal my sword?’ Her eyes flew open. Lucy acted the part of savoring the end of the meal, but it was difficult. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery.
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