Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. As he gazed down into the courts of the prison, he could not help shuddering, lest a false step might precipitate him below. ‘Gérard will think that I have gone back to London. “Your name and address in his pocket was no delusion,” he said sharply.
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