She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. She found next morning, when she came to this advertisement answering, that it was more difficult than she had supposed. It’s odd how little I know of him, and of how he feels and what he feels. Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it. And he departed, just as Wood, who had become alarmed by Thames's long absence, made his appearance with a blunderbuss in his hand. He saw what he had done only as it related to Ruth.
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